


everything I love gets lost in drawers

by sidnihoudini



Series: Fork and Knife [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: And loses, Chris fights the good fight, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck Seb.  Fuck Marvel.  And fuck this.  Chris is not going to be that guy.  Not this time.  He’s going to do his fucking job, and he’s not going to let his eyes linger on Seb for too long, and he’s going to be a friend instead of a guy to fuck.  Chris will not risk losing Seb again just for some ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, did you know that Chris and Seb trained for [THREE MONTHS](http://uncensoredsideblog.tumblr.com/post/113539491238/sebastian-stan-and-those-three-months-he-spent-in) to prep for The Winter Soldier?
> 
> Follows after [and the coastline is quiet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7093318/chapters/16640560).
> 
> As always, all Seb consulting comes from @adios-esposito who honestly does not get enough credit.

Chris has been back in LA for three months so far.

Pre-production has been a wild ride: weeks of stunts, working out, and combat training are familiar at this point, but no less tiresome. Marvel isn’t fucking around with the second Cap movie, either - they’ve added an extra thirty mil to the budget, for starters.

That’s still less than the last Iron Man, but Chris has never been overly interested in franchise politics.

Today has been more of the same, and now he’s heading home after another sixteen hour day. 

It’s been strange, going back to his brand new place alone, but that was the reason for buying it: he no longer has to deal with hotel rooms and temporary rentals. And, hey. Once he gets a day that doesn’t include shield training and learning how to land without breaking an ankle, he might even get around to buying some furniture.

Fuck, a brief foray into interior design might be good for his mental health at this point: it’d be the perfect distraction for when Sebastian rolls into town, anyway. 

In fact, Chris is hyper aware of the fact Sebastian is due to arrive any day now, and deeply attuned to the fact they haven’t seen one another in over a year, much less talked at any kind of length. The last time Sebastian said anything to Chris, it was through a text message that he sent shortly after Chris’s trip to New York.

If Chris could change anything, it would be the way they - _he_ \- left things.

Butthurt after spending a week in New York and leaving a voicemail on Sebastian’s phone every day he’d been there, Chris had been _wounded_ when Sebastian finally managed a reply four days after he left the city.

_Hey man, sorry I missed you… maybe next time you’re in NY we can catch up :)_

It was the last thing Sebastian said to him, and Chris knows it was because of his shitty response:

_Haha yeah maybe I’ll see you around._

He distinctly remembers sending the text. In fact, it had been the jewel in the crown of shit from that era in his life, and it had all started when he decided to retreat to Boston. The original plan had been to lick his wounds and hang out with the people who _would_ talk to him - like his mom and his bros.

He’d been stoned, a little drunk, and then Sebastian’s text came through. Bad timing. Story of his life.

Chris sent his reply without pausing to consider the consequences. That had been a swift reality check, man, sitting there for half an hour, watching as the little “...” appeared and disappeared over and over as Sebastian crafted his response.

He sat there for a long time, lost in tunnel vision, until the “...” symbol disappeared once, and never came back again.

Chris kept Sebastian’s phone number, in case something happened.

It never did.

And that was where they left things. It had been a reasonable conclusion, especially before the second movie was ever officially on the table. Just one more thing on Chris’s long list of life fuck-ups, and it had been fine, just peachy, until it was confirmed that they’d be working with each other for the next six, seven, maybe even eight years.

In the months since, the closest they’d been was for a table read, and even then, someone else recited The Winter Soldier’s lines while Sebastian listened in on conference from Manhattan.

Just hearing Sebastian say, “hey everyone, hi,” over the speaker had Chris nervous.

Strange, when your body remembers more than your brain lets on.

~

“You’re being weird,” Scarlett grins, looking smug before Chris has even had a chance to figure out what’s going on.

He’s not weird. He’s a fucking rock in the sand. He’s as steady as he’s ever been.

Chris’s hand shakes as he reaches for a spoon.

“I’m fine,” He lies, stirring his coffee.

He bites his lip to stop himself from saying anything else, and frowns when he sees the way Scarlett smiles bigger - like butter wouldn’t melt in her fucking mouth. She leans in and bumps her shoulder against his upper arm.

“Whatever you say,” She replies, sweetly.

Chris grimaces at her back as she walks away.

~

 _You can do this_ , punch.

 _You can do this_ , punch.

 _You can do this_ , punch.

The sound of the heavy metal gym doors swinging open throws Chris off his rhythm, and then,

“Hey! There he is,” Dale, one of their shared stunt trainers, shouts.

Chris stops, shaking both arms out as he walks away from the bag, eyes trained on the mat.

He can do this. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. His body betrays him, and floods with adrenaline the moment he hears Sebastian’s voice again.

“Wow, nice to see you guys!” Sebastian is laughing, caught up in a group of three or four people over by the main door.

Chris uses his teeth to loosen his hand wraps and then starts pulling them off, heart pounding in his chest as he tries to temper his breathing back into something normal.

He can’t put this moment off forever. The longer he waits, the weirder things are gonna be.

“We got you in choreo today, man,” Dale says to Sebastian, “Gimme five minutes and I’ll meet you in the gym - you done the tour yet?”

Sebastian says he hasn’t; he just got here. Shoulders tight, Chris snags his water bottle from where he left it on the ground, and sets his jaw resolutely. It’s just after twelve - nobody will look at him weird if he takes off for lunch now.

“Hey man,” He says, nodding at Sebastian in passing.

His heart is in his throat. Chris keeps his face as neutral as he can, but can’t avoid the way he feels Sebastian’s genuine surprise trailing along behind him like dust.

~

Sebastian and Mackie are living out of the same hotel in Manhattan Beach.

They’re the last two principal actors to hold out on buying in California; Chris knows Mackie refuses to give up on Brooklyn, and Sebastian is happy to get by couch surfing in LA. The joke's on Chris, anyway, because they’re coming out on top with complimentary room service and video on demand.

Point is - Chris knows Sebastian is staying at that particular hotel because Mackie told him so.

Mackie - very pointedly - _told him so._

Now that everyone is in California, things are back on the boilerplate, and it’s only a matter of time before Chris loses his cool. He knows it, too: this thing between he and Sebastian is going to end in one of two ways, and both avenues include bodily fluid.

That means Chris has a couple days - max - to get his head screwed on right. Once that time runs out, it’s essentially a ticking time bomb until they start their one-on-one training, something Chris assumes has been scheduled by satan himself.

Leaving their baggage at the door is going to be one of the more difficult things Chris has done.

Grimacing at himself, Chris sets his lunch tray down on the cafeteria style table, and drops down into one of the plastic chairs. Even though they’re not shooting yet, they have a craft services tent available about twelve hours a day. Unsurprisingly, you get super hungry when you’re burning off 5000 calories at a time.

Chris unwraps his plastic fork and knife, and yanks his plate of chicken and spinach closer.

He didn’t even get a good look at Sebastian while they were at the gym. Tunnel vision was an understatement for the phenomenon he experienced: the only thing Chris saw standing between himself and emotional freedom was the door.

Shaking those thoughts away, he opens Reddit on his phone, and digs into his chicken.

He finishes his food and gets a solid ten minutes of peace before a shadow stripes its way across his table. Chris feels the immediate change in the room’s energy, and knows who it is before he even looks up.

“Hey, man,” Sebastian says, crooked little smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. His gaze flickers over Chris’s hands, his phone, his empty plate, and then snaps back up to Chris’s face. “It’s good to see you.”

In two sentences, Sebastian has completely knocked Chris flat on his ass.

History is doomed to repeat itself, after all.

“Hi,” Chris manages. He’s never been more aware of the thud of his heart. “I, sorry, you know, I - lunch.”

Because words have suddenly failed him, Chris gestures at his plate with one hand.

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Sebastian smiles, eyes bright. Clear. The exact shade Chris has been dreaming about for months on end without any kind of reprieve. “I’m just in here getting some water, but listen, man, I wanted to say - ”

_Haha yeah maybe I’ll see you around._

“You don’t,” Chris blurts, frowning at himself immediately. He looks up at Sebastian and tries not to hide underneath his eyelashes too much. “Sorry. Not to interrupt, but, you just, you don’t have to say - that.”

Sebastian smiles without showing his teeth, and then visibly falters, unsure of what to say. He looks at Chris carefully, and rests one hand on the back of the chair he’s standing beside.

“I know I don’t have to,” Sebastian nods, careful. He’s walking through a verbal minefield and trying his best not to mirror Chris’s expression. “But I want to. I want you to know I’m still the same guy.”

You and me both, pal, Chris wants to say. He bites it back. Character bleed is weird.

“Hey man, same,” Is what Chris says instead. Sebastian’s entire face wrinkles up into a smile.

He nods. Chris nods.

They both nod at each other.

“I should get back,” Sebastian finally says, gracing Chris with an excuse to remove himself from their conversation. He arches an eyebrow and asks, “See you around?”

It takes Chris longer than he’d ever admit to articulate a response. He hasn’t been within arm’s reach of Sebastian for so much longer than he ever expected, his brain is overwhelmed and unsure of what he should do with the visual it’s being fed.

Sebastian is entirely beautiful. Fuck Chris for noticing it today, but he hasn’t seen that face in over a year. Sebastian almost looks the same - same skin, same eyes, same bone structure - but he’s physically bigger. Leaner.

His hair is longer than Chris has ever seen it, and he’s got stubble from upper lip to jawline.

It’s disorienting, to see a version of Sebastian so different from the one who haunts him.

“See you around,” Chris manages to parrot, way too late.

Sebastian smiles, and pats the back of the chair before turning to leave.

~

To celebrate Sebastian’s arrival in LA, the crew goes out for a drink at the hotel bar.

Chris runs back to his house to shower, change, and eat a secret Hot Pocket over the sink. Drinking on an empty stomach isn’t a good look.

By the time he gets to the hotel, everyone is already there. They’ve got a big group going: trainers, nutritionists, Sebastian, Mackie, Frank, and Scarlett. Chris grins and pats shoulders as he weaves his way along their table; aside from a few businessmen drinking by themselves, the bar is empty.

“Hey man, good to see you again!” He says to Frank, pulling him up into a half hug.

Frank pats Chris on the chest - already a little drunk - and sits back down to continue his conversation with Cory, one of the combat trainers.

“Hey, Chris - you made it,” Sebastian smiles.

Chris’s heart flips over in its cage. He smiles back automatically.

“I said I would,” He replies, breaking into a laugh.

It takes him another minute of bumbling around the table before he snags a seat beside Scarlett and across from Sebastian and Mackie.

“What are we drinking?” He asks no one in particular, looking down the length of the table. The majority of their group have mixed drinks - less calories, less carbs - and appies. Chris can’t wait for the night out when filming wraps.

He’s going to pencil it into his calendar as ‘Hamburger Heaven.’

Scarlett elbows him a little as he reaches for a menu, and says, “They have really good wings.”

“All wings are good wings,” Chris automatically replies.

Without meaning to, he glances up and over the top edge of his menu. 

He knows that’s where he’ll see Sebastian, but it still knocks him in the gut when he does. His body likes that, his brain feels good with Sebastian so close. Sebastian is laughing with Mackie, mouth wide open and eyes crinkled closed.

Chris isn’t done waxing poetic, but Scarlett clears her throat. He blushes and knots his eyebrows as he goes back to the menu.

“Might get some of those wings,” He announces, smiling despite himself when Scarlett cracks up and jabs him in the side.

~

It only takes a couple drinks for everyone to start dropping off.

Their trainers and nutritionists disappear first, and then Grillo takes off to meet a friend. Before long, the only bodies left in their slowly dwindling group are Chris, Scarlett, Sebastian, and Mackie.

“This is what I’ve been saying the whole time!” Chris hears Sebastian laugh-yell.

Scarlett has relocated herself to the spot beside Sebastian; they’ve been talking about New York theatre for as long as it’s taken them to work their way through an entire thing of wings. They’re similar, Sebastian and Scarlett, and share a long list of interests that Chris has no knowledge in learning about.

On the other side of the table, Chris and Mackie are nursing the last inch of their beers.

Mackie’s a good friend, man. Chris has known him for years, and has never been more grateful to have him around. Mackie helps him keep his head on straight.

When Chris is left to his own devices, he tends to run hot and burn himself. It’s a character flaw.

“Don’t do that, man,” Mackie warns, laughing, like he’s reading Chris’s mind.

Chris makes an innocent face, and reaches for his beer. The last mouthful is gone in one swallow.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris smiles, but Mackie’s already got his six. Not quite as thoroughly as Scarlett does, but for a bro, he’s pretty damn close.

But Mackie, god love him, lets it go.

“Alright, man,” He says, shaking his head.

There’s no way Mackie knows about the history Chris and Sebastian share. The only way he could is if Sebastian’s blown their cover, which Chris very much doubts. Mackie is just a really perceptive guy, and Chris is, well. Not so much.

You know - the first time Mackie called Chris out on one of his dumb trains of thought, Chris jokingly accused him of witchcraft. Mackie laughed then, but in the years since, Chris has considered wrapping his head in tinfoil on multiple occasions.

“Well, boys,” Scarlett sighs, reaching for her purse, “It’s already past my bedtime.”

Chris nods, pats his fingers over his pockets and begins to follow suit.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” He says, standing up.

Everyone shuffles around - Chris somehow ended up sitting on Scarlett’s jacket, and Sebastian left his ear buds at the wrong end of the table - until they’re all standing up and intertwined in varying stages of goodbye.

Chris gives Mackie their standard handshake-and-hug combo. Mackie and Scarlett share a quick “bye” and corresponding cheek kiss. Sebastian hugs Scarlett tight and quick, the tips of his fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her dress.

And then there’s Chris, standing there with his car keys in one hand and Sebastian in front of him.

“Hey, drive safe, man,” Sebastian finally says.

He hits Chris with a full smile before he leans in, smelling good and feeling right, and reaches up to wrap an arm around the back of Chris’s neck. The sudden weight of Sebastian’s chin on his shoulder is so instantly familiar and warm that Chris feels his knees buckle with sense memory.

Chris manages an agreeable noise that disappears into the fabric of Sebastian’s denim jacket.

“Thanks,” He says, after patting Sebastian on the back and taking a step away. All of a sudden he can’t stop scratching at the back of one ear; he feels fidgety and weird, and breaks into a nervous laugh before blurting, “See you at work!”

Sebastian laughs at Chris - at, not with - and looks openly, shockingly charmed for a moment.

The interaction lasts no longer than thirty seconds from beginning to end, and leaves Chris with a racing heart.

~

Everything moves quickly once training is under way.

Every day is structured the same:

A warm-up workout and safety training. Coffee, black. After coffee, the stunt guys do a full run through of that day’s fight, and then teach the choreography step by step. Chris mostly works one on one with Dale, his Cap stunt guy, and barely sees Sebastian at first.

This morning, Chris is running through the last round of shield training.

It’s familiar now - and just as comfortable as putting on the suit is. The shield is not to be fucked with, either: even though the slicker stunts are completed with CGI, Chris has still got to carry it around like it isn’t a hundred pounds of metal.

He’s so focused on striking that particular balance on his forearm, he doesn’t realize Seb is standing there, watching him, until he hears a, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Chris replies without thinking. He wipes off his sweaty face with the back of his forearm.

Seb’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, and still holding the knives he’s been learning how to flip. He smiles crookedly at Chris, and rubs at the snap of his hat over his forehead.

“I was gonna get some lunch,” He says, pointing over his shoulder with a knife. “You wanna join?”

Panting - jesus, he’s gotta stop smoking before they pick up filming - Chris nods and wipes his face off again, this time pulling up the bottom part of his t-shirt to do so. He walks over to the edge of the mat, rests the shield against the wall, and turns around to head back to Seb.

“How’s the knife stuff going?” Chris asks, feeling gross and too hot as he and Seb start out into the hallway, falling into step so they’re shoulder to shoulder.

Seb flips his hat right way around with one hand, and continues flipping his knife with the other.

“It’s not bad,” He shrugs, and then cracks up when he immediately drops one of the knives. “But that could have been better.”

Laughing, Chris pauses, watching and waiting as Seb picks the knife back up and tucks it into the side of his sweatpants.

“That seems incredibly dangerous,” He laughs, arching one eyebrow.

Seb gives him that grin - the panic inducing one, that makes Seb’s whole face wrinkle up in happiness - and laughs, “They won’t give me a belt! How’s a guy supposed to carry around his knives without a belt. Honestly.”

“You should talk to someone about that,” Chris teases, elbowing Seb’s side a little as they walk in-step towards the food services tent. “I got my shield harness last week.”

“Oh _really_? I see how it is,” Seb replies, raising his eyebrows with a smile. “Big movie star. That it?”

Oh god, if they were playing a game, Chris would have just lost.

“That’s exactly it,” He says back, unable to temper his giddy grin. “You should be grateful you’re being seen with me!”

“I am,” Seb says, still teasing a little. He tucks his hair back behind one ear, and adds, “You know, I really am.”

The grin on Chris’s face fades to a stunned smile, but he feels it all the way down to his heels.

~

Friday night beers end up becoming a Thing.

It’s weird, you know, how the people you work with can become your family. Last summer, Chris went to one of the crew guys son’s first birthday party, and tonight they’re celebrating Cory proposing to his girlfriend. The guy hasn’t been able to stop smiling all week.

One and a half beers in, Chris is sitting alone, quietly absorbing the things going on around him. He’s so grateful for the things he has, sometimes it feels like he’s fucking it all up by not taking full advantage.

To his left, Scarlett and one of the costume department girls - Amy, the newest recruit to their beer ‘n bitch - are looking at something on Mackie’s phone. They seem horrified but they’re laughing, hands over their faces as Scarlett flips through to the next picture.

Chris smiles at that.

At the far end of the table, the stunt guys are all grouped together, talking over one another and making dirty jokes about gains. They should actually look into changing venues soon, cause they’re all acting way too boisterous for such a stuffy hotel bar.

Chris rests his chin on his hand, and turns his head.

Seb’s sitting further down the table, between their shared nutritionist and Cory. They’ve had so much shit to do over the last few weeks, Chris hasn’t really had the chance to stop and pull himself together. And it’s funny, you know. The minute he looks at Seb tonight, Chris feels himself catch his breath for the first time since walking through those gym doors.

Being back in Seb’s direct orbit is definitely fucking with his head.

Chris drains the remainder of his beer and leans back in his chair, raising one arm above his head until he catches the server’s attention. She smiles at him from across the room, and returns his ‘one more’ hand motion with a thumbs up.

When Chris looks back, Seb’s got a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip and he’s grinning. He doesn’t notice Chris at first, too caught up in listening to the conversation as it bounces from his left side to his right and then back again.

It isn’t until Seb pats himself down for a lighter and gets to his feet that he catches Chris staring.

Fuck.

Surprisingly, Seb just raises his eyebrows and points to the cigarette hanging from his mouth; without a second thought, Chris nods and pushes himself away from the table.

The smell of cigarette smoke has always, and will always, remind him of Sebastian.

Sentimental mush aside, everyone gives them shit about smoking - which, fair enough, you know, it’s not exactly easy to run a ten minute mile when you’re hacking shit up - but that’s for Monday’s Chris to worry about. Everyone ends up laughing when Seb makes a face and waves them off, anyways.

This asshole could sell ice to a Inuit. He knows it, too, is still grinning and shaking his head as they make their way through the hotel lobby. 

“Here you go,” Seb says, holding a cigarette out for Chris between his pointer and middle finger.

Chris takes it gratefully, and sticks it in his mouth lest he say anything more than, “Thanks.”

“I’m exhausted,” Seb sighs, elbowing his way through the main lobby doors.

Making a noise of agreement, Chris follows him out into the loading zone; Seb has clearly done this before, and knows exactly where to go as they trek down the side of the building. Soon they reach a little smoker’s area built for two, with a bucket and a bench.

Seb lights up without touching a finger to filter, and lets out a relaxed sigh as he exhales.

It’s such a satisfying visual, Chris forgets he has his own cigarette to smoke until Seb offers up a light.

Chris leans forward, eyeing the tanned knob of Seb’s wrist and the way the pad of his thumb presses into the flint wheel, and sticks his cigarette into the flame. The paper burns immediately and he takes a grateful breath in, eyelids fluttering closed before he has a chance to study Seb’s hand any further.

“Thanks,” He sighs, exhaling through his nose. His voice is already tight with smoke, but god, that feels good. It feels good to let go, just a little bit.

When Chris looks back later, he will realize that this is the night where everything began - again.

“My pleasure,” Seb grins, tucking the lighter back into his pocket. “So how bout you, man? How’s training?”

Shrugging, Chris squints and replies, “It’s fine, guess I’m kinda in the zone now. We’re in the final stretch.”

“We are,” Seb agrees, nodding.

They stand shoulder to shoulder, the night quiet between them, other than the odd sound of the freeway in the distance.

Chris lets himself relax under the hazy, warm blanket of nicotine. He smokes so infrequently these days, every time he does he gets that dizzy, fuzzy head. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in weeks.

“I’m grateful you’re back in my life,” He admits, when their cigarettes are about half smoked. His voice is soft, rougher than he’d ever care to admit.

Seb makes a short, surprised noise beside him, and inhales sharp through his nose.

“Right back atcha,” Seb replies, gentle. There’s a pause, and Chris feels the tension begin to ebb back between them, until Seb sighs and brings one hand up to push his hair back behind one ear. “I, uh. You know - all that…”

Without thinking, Chris shakes his head and says, “You don’t - we don’t. It’s ancient history.”

“Yeah,” Seb nods, eyebrows knotting tightly. He drags on his cigarette until ember hits filter, and agrees, “History.”

~

Except it’s not.

Like - it’s really, deeply, not.

If the way Chris feels right now is any indication, he is dangerously close to backsliding.

Just kidding. He has begun his descent, and is currently halfway back down the mountain.

And, you know, if Chris had been able to hold onto that - that fucking, feeling, that he had, when Seb didn’t return any of his calls or messages - maybe none of this would have been quite so bad. Maybe he could have held onto that feeling, harnessed it, and used it to his advantage.

He and Seb maintaining any kind of friendship had never been part of the deal; in fact, it was one of the few clauses Marvel didn’t have wrapped around his dick.

Fuck Seb. Fuck Marvel. And fuck that. Chris is not going to be that guy. Not this time. He’s going to do his fucking job, and he’s not going to let his eyes linger on Seb for too long, and he’s going to be a friend instead of a guy to fuck. Chris will not risk losing Seb again just for some ass.

Because - as good as that ass is - Seb’s continuing involvement in his life is better.

Just tell that to Chris’s dick the minute he walks into the wardrobe office and finds Seb in Winter Soldier gear from throat to stomach.

“You can make these tighter,” Seb notes, fingering the leather buckles that are fastened across his stomach; from Chris’s vantage point in the doorway they pretty, uh, pretty good. Pretty tight. “Hey, is this my holster?”

Amy bodily turns Seb around with one hand on his hip, and the other wardrobe girl looks up from where she’s on her knees in front of him.

She raises her eyebrows at Chris expectantly.

“Uh - yeah,” Chris manages, holding his prop shield up belatedly. “My, my, my strap broke.”

Good thing Chris’s voice didn’t crack. _That_ would have been embarrassing.

As it stands Seb just twists around, hair in his face and body wrapped in leather, and grins brightly. He says, “Hey!”

“Hey,” Chris replies, jerking his shield out as Amy walks up to him with a frown on her face, one hand already outstretched for his broken prop. “So that’s the outfit, huh?”

Face contorted, Seb nods and then twists around from side to side, holding his arms up and elbows out.

“Should be interesting once I get that arm on,” He says, and, for the first time, Chris realizes that the leather jacket Seb’s decked out in is missing an entire sleeve. Seb angles his voice over his shoulder and asks, “Is that next week?”

Chris stands there, completely at a loss, as Amy emergency repairs his shield strap, and Carly - the one who was grabbing Seb’s hip when he walked in - answers all arm related questions.

By the time Chris gets the shield back, he can feel the flush already creeping up the back of his neck.

“Thanks Amy, you’re great,” He manages, accidentally slipping into Cap voice as he tests the new reinforced strap out.

He’s sure he barely hides the oogly expression on his face as he navigates himself back out the door.

~

“You fucking got this, man,” Chris says to himself, quiet, nearly out of breath.

He takes another punch at the bag.

He does not have this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay okay, so I was originally going to post this in one big 20k+ word story, but then it was taking waaaay too long to edit, so I decided to cut it into three chunks instead.
> 
> Let me know what you think, too; comments/kudos light a fire under my ass to post faster.
> 
> Also many of you messaged me asking for a F&K soundtrack/playlist, so I'm going to try to start including a few songs at the end of every major instalment (like this and 7/4/16).


	2. Two

Chris is in the shower, on the knife edge of willful ignorance and completely giving in.

They’ve got one month of training left. Four weeks, that’s it. Once April rolls around, Chris is going to be more concerned with memorizing the script than running through another round of fight choreography.

In the meantime, he’s content going to bed sore and waking up stiff - in more ways than one.

Which, actually, is exactly why he’s in the shower at six o’clock at night, an hour before everyone is set to show up to his deeply unfurnished house. _Come on over for dinner, guys_ , he said - _it’ll be great!_

What a naive person five o’clock Chris was. He should have anticipated coming to this fork in the road the moment he opened his gigantic mouth: does he jerk off now, after dealing with half a hard-on all day, or does he suck it up and refuse to give in?

Chris has never been very good at saying no, especially when in relation to his dick.

“Alright,” He sighs to himself, eyes pinched closed, face directly in the shower stream.

He can do this. He can jerk off and not think about Seb. He can keep this from going down that road again.

Cautiously, Chris wraps his fingers around his cock, and leans the other arm against the shower wall.

He can’t think about anything else. His dick doesn’t care about the anonymous ass he’s trying to conjure up - it wants something very specific, namely, Seb with his new hair, dressed from head to toe in Winter Soldier leather. Actually, you know what - Chris isn’t going to be picky - he’d settle for gym clothes at this point.

God, just the thought of Seb’s back muscles flexing underneath that t-shirt today is enough to have him making stupid noises and clutching at the wall with his free hand.

“Fuck, Chris,” He managers after, tilting his face back into the stream and spitting a mouthful of shower water against the tiled floor, “Get it together.”

~

Scarlett shows up first.

“Hey sailor,” She greets.

Laughing, Chris holds the door open: her contribution for the night is an industrial strength paper bag filled to the brim with containers from their favorite Italian deli.

“Hey yourself,” He replies automatically, accepting the bag as she steps over the threshold and into the front hall. “Damn, girl, this is a spread!”

Scarlett snorts, kicks her sandals off, and heads into the kitchen.

Following behind, Chris digs through the top layer of containers one handed - he forgot this place existed, actually, but in his unintentional absence Scarlett has clearly been keeping the owners out of the red.

“Can I help with anything?” She asks, sliding onto one of the kitchen island stools. 

Chris heads around to the other side, sets the paper bag down, and shakes his head.

“Everything’s already done,” He shrugs, beginning to unpack the bag’s contents. “Grillo’s bringing the meat, and Mackie’s bringing the booze. Speaking of, you want a beer? I got a couple Heineken kicking around.”

“Yeah, sure,” She shrugs - and then, because she can’t seem to help herself - raises her eyebrows, and asks, “So when are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Sebastian?”

Chris immediately fumbles the bottle opener, and almost takes the pad of his thumb off.

His shame jerk sesh must be written all over his face.

“There’s nothing to tell,” He replies, steadily. It’s a good recovery. He can roll with that.

To make himself seem extra easy breezy, Chris raises his eyebrows, resets the bottle opener, and pries the lid off successfully.

Scarlett doesn’t buy it. She gives him her patented _you’re a terrible liar_ face, and then pulls out the _I haven’t gathered enough evidence to the contrary to throw this in your face_ eyebrow arch.

Out loud, she says, “That’s suspicious.”

“What?” He laughs, sliding her beer across the counter. He gets another out of the mini fridge below the counter for himself, and adds, “We’re on good terms, we’re friendly, and… and there’s nothing else to say!”

Chris has rehearsed these lines in his head. He’s an actor, for god’s sake, he can recite entire pages of dialogue; this is practically child’s play.

“Seems to me there’s plenty you can say,” She smirks, bringing her beer halfway up to her mouth before she pauses to laugh and add, “You’re BLUSHING.”

Aaaand his lines might have worked, had he pulled them out on anyone other than Scarlett. Smart, beautiful Scarlett, the girl he’s known since he was a twenty two year old Eminem fan with a hairline that hadn’t started to recede. 

Scarlett is also the only person in the world - aside from Chris - who knows the whole Sebastian Stan Story, from first meeting to last gory detail.

With a scowl, Chris cracks his beer open, and grumbles, “I’m not blushing, I just had a shower.”

“I get it. You don’t have to tell me,” She replies, “I can be patient.”

The doorbell rings; Scarlett raises her eyebrows, and pointedly takes another sip of her drink.

Chris frowns at her immediately, and says, “It could be anyone.”

“Better go answer it,” She replies, sweetly.

On his way out of the kitchen, Chris looks back over his shoulder. Twice.

~

It isn’t Sebastian at the door. Grillo holds up a tray full of steaks, and grins.

~

As everyone begins to show up, the group migrates outside.

Chris paid 3.5 million for that view, he better get some fucking use out of it this year.

“I’m gonna get the steaks,” He says, patting Grillo’s shoulder as he passes by on his way from the BBQ pit to the house.

Grillo’s been here for half an hour and he’s already blisteringly drunk - blood alcohol content aside, the dude makes a great steak.

At the kitchen island, Chris begins moving slabs of steak from butcher paper to plate methodically. He’s about halfway through when he hears the front door open and close.

“Hey, man,” Seb calls, before adding, “Hope you don’t mind I let myself in.”

Chris has a steak hanging halfway between the butcher paper and plate, but at the sight of Seb standing there, car keys in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, his brain forgets to send the signal to his hand to let go.

Being momentarily stunned by Seb’s presence is nothing new - but Chris was expecting something - a doorbell, a knock, some kind of warning that would have allowed for a moment of preparation.

Unable to do anything else, Chris raises both eyebrows and opens his mouth to speak.

“You let yourself in,” Is what finally tumbles from his mouth.

The steak falls off his fork, and lands half on, half off the plate with a wet slap.

“Sorry, I, well. I guessed the gate code, I guess,” Seb explains, offering Chris a tiny half smile and the bottle of the wine that he sets carefully on the counter. “It’s the same number you had at your old place, and… then the door was unlocked. I should have knocked.”

The same number at his old place? Chris frowns to himself for half a second before realization cracks over his head like old plaster. This is unreal. Chris can count on one hand the number of times Seb was at that apartment - Chris only leased it for the short time between production and promo for the first movie.

He still remembers the temporary phone number Seb had while they were filming in London, too. Some things just don’t leave you, for better or worse.

“It’s cool,” Chris says, trying to chase the lingering memories of that little apartment away with a smile. “I’m glad you made it.”

Seb’s expression changes - the tense lines of his face relax into something more familiar - and he nods, running a hand through his hair, gaze falling to take in what Chris is doing.

“Can I help?” He asks, moving to shrug out of his jacket.

Grimacing, Chris picks the fallen steak up, and sets it on the plate properly. There really isn’t anything left to do, but he’s not ready to let Seb disappear into the backyard just yet.

Jerking off in the shower was a great idea.

“Yeah, actually, um,” Chris pauses, glancing around and finally pointing to a handful of garlic cloves with one elbow, “Can you crush that up?”

Seb’s already pushing up his sleeves. 

“I’ll crush whatever you ask me to,” He grins, walking around the counter so they’re hip to hip. “Where are your knives?”

Laughing - and already a little red in the face - Chris transfers the next steak, then asks, “What, you don’t have your own? Word on the street is, you’re a pro now.”

“I got knife tricks,” Seb agrees with an easy smile.

Because Chris didn’t answer his question, Seb starts opening drawers, looking for something to cut the garlic up with.

“Hey, can you hand me that?” Chris asks, interrupting Seb’s search to point across the counter with a steak-y finger. Seb follows his eyeline, and slides the bowl of sea salt rub over. Chris smiles, bumps their upper arms together - shorthand for _you’re great_ \- and smiles, “Thanks.”

Chris has missed this so much it makes his belly flip. Their easy back and forth, and the way Seb’s eyelashes touch his cheeks when he looks down.

“Hey, I’ll do whatever it takes to get that steak in my mouth,” Seb laughs, returning the bump - elbow to elbow this time.

“That could be a dangerous invitation,” Chris replies without thinking, too stunned by Seb’s face to realize what he’s saying. He cuts himself off with a laugh, and adds, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Seb’s a little flushed in the cheeks; Chris can’t believe he got through an entire year without seeing that face.

“Whatever, Evans,” He finally grumbles, smiling as he finds a paring knife a few drawers away. “You’re a menace.”

Laughing, Chris puts on his best innocent face, and replies, “I’m America’s Sweetheart.”

“That’s not true at all,” Seb laughs, shaking his head. His fingers work as he starts peeling the garlic for the steak rub.

Chris cleans up the gnarly butcher paper, and replies, “No, it’s not. I think that title probably belongs to Jennifer Garner.”

“Oh my god I forgot about your crush on Jennifer Garner!” Seb cackles, eyebrows suddenly halfway up his forehead as he throws a clove of peeled garlic onto the cutting board between them. “You just want to marry Ben Affleck. You wish you got there first.”

“That’s not - he seems like a good guy, is all,” Chris starts, but then quickly amends. There’s no point in denying it to Seb; this is the same guy who endured rant after drunken rant about how beautiful Argo was. Chris tries to keep his normal voice, but inevitably cracks up as he says, “He’d take care of me.”

Feigning seriousness, Seb nods and replies, “You’ve got that trophy thing covered with that chest of yours, jesus. You could drive a truck over that thing.”

“Well, I’d have to get work done eventually,” Chris sighs, trying to ignore the sense memories that immediately flood his brain at Seb’s description - Seb thumbing his nipple, biting into his pec, dragging his dick between the muscles and the base of Chris’s gulping throat - “Gotta keep up with the neighbors. Hopefully Ben keeps making those movies, cause I’m not cutting back on my expenses.”

Seb laughs at that, a real laugh that has his entire face crinkling up in happiness. He runs his non-garlicy hand through his hair, tucking it back behind one ear, and replies, “Hey, maybe you can slip me a twenty every now and then.”

“I don’t know man,” Chris sighs, playing dumb. “I gotta work for that money. What are you doing in this equation?”

Grinning, Seb looks over with bright eyes, and says, “For twenty bucks? Keep me on retainer - I’ll be the spider guy!”

“Don’t talk to me about fucking spiders, ugh,” Chris grimaces, shaking his head as he rinses his hands off in the sink, and then reaches for the bowl of sea salt. He can’t help but scratch at his shoulder a little.

Seb teases, “Twenty bucks seems like a deal to me.”

Chris is laughing enough to not hear the back door open until Mackie shouts, “SEABASS, yo!”

“What?” Seb asks automatically, still mid-smile and watching Chris as he turns around. Chris sobers himself and concentrates on the steaks; doesn’t even look up until he hears Seb make an offended noise and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot tub plan?”

“I thought you knew!” Mackie exclaims. When Chris turns around, he bursts out laughing - Mackie’s already standing there in a pair of swim trunks, holding a beer in each hand. “This is your boy’s house, ain’t it? I thought you knew!”

Yowza, Chris is pretty sure he flushes all the way down to the base of his throat.

Seb laughs at Mackie, shakes his head, and turns back around to ask, “Hey, you got a pair of shorts I can borrow? I didn’t think I was gonna end up wet.”

“You always end up wet when we go out, Seabass,” Mackie exclaims, then, “Get your ass out here.”

Laughing, Chris shakes his head and, before the Seb and Mackie show can get started, says, “Yeah, man. Of course. I’ll go get you a pair, you got any requests?”

Mackie heads back outside, leaving Chris and Seb in the kitchen alone.

“As long as they cover my junk, I’ll take em,” Seb says, but that seems like a lie to Chris.

A little frazzled, Chris nods and peaces out to snag Seb a pair of shorts from upstairs. 

In his bedroom, Chris rummages through his clothes, and reminds himself that he’s gonna be the one staring at Seb all night in whatever pair he chooses. The thought does confusing shit to his dick.

This pair is too see through, those are WAY too tight, and he’s pretty sure this pair would be too small. Seb’s been working out for the movie and it shows: Chris probably still beats him in width from shoulder to shoulder, but he’s definitely smaller than Seb from hip to hip.

Seb’s also got ass. A beautiful, beautiful ass.

“Hey,” Seb says from behind Chris, knocking belatedly on the doorframe.

Startled, Chris bangs the bottom of the drawer he’s looking in with his knee, and turns around. He’s in proposal stance and the concept is not lost on him.

“Hey,” Chris breathes, and then blurts out, “I was gonna come to you.”

“Oh. I finished the steaks,” Seb shrugs, making his way over. “Grillo’s got them cooking now. Hey, if you can’t find anything, I can go underwear only.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Satan lives in a man named Sebastian Stan.

“Uh, here, we go - here are a bunch,” Chris bumbles, pulling out every pair he owns. Honestly the last thing his dick needs to see is Seb in translucent white underwear; he knows exactly what this bitch prefers, and CK fabric does not hold up to water.

Seb picks the top pair off the pile. They’re tight and kinda short, Chris accidentally bought them when he was on vacation and super drunk in Cabo a few years ago. He’s not surprised they appeal to Seb.

“These are great, man, thanks!” Seb grins, holding the shorts in one hand. The other goes to the fly of his jeans, and starts to unzip.

Chris jams the drawer closed, clothes still hanging over the edge, and gets a head rush with how fast he bounces to his feet.

“It’s good - fine - I mean,” He pauses, hopelessly, then adds, “I gotta check on the meat. The steaks.”

With an amused smile. Seb nods, and waits until Chris is within relative safety of the doorway before he asks, “Hey, don’t you want a pair?”

“No - no no,” Chris replies automatically, trying to keep his eyes trained on Seb’s face, and not the way his hand is still hanging over his junk. “You know. I don’t wanna… risk it.”

Now Seb is fully entertained. He laughs and asks, “What, are you pregnant?”

“Haha! No!” Chris replies, taking a step backwards. “No, definitely not.”

His shoulder bangs into the edge of the doorframe before he manages to fully navigate himself back out into the safety of the hallway.

Fuck.

~

Outside offers Chris little reprieve.

The steaks are delicious - which is good - but Scarlett immediately clocks the guilty expression on his face, and the shorts hanging off of Seb’s ass - which is bad.

“Those are familiar,” She smirks, empty plate in her lap, drink held loosely in one hand. She arches an eyebrow at Chris and asks, “Cabo, right?”

Scowling, Chris saws into his steak, and jams a big piece into his mouth.

“Lucky guess,” He grumbles, chewing.

Scarlett cackles.

~

If Chris looks over at the hot tub one more time, he’s going to have a stroke.

“Asshole!” Grillo rants, as Chris wins another round of the half-assed blackjack they’ve been playing.

Chris laughs - winning feels good, man - and claps for himself before starting to clear the patio table for another round. As he shuffles, Grillo gets up to snag another couple beers.

That’s when Chris makes his first mistake. He lets his gaze trail across the deck, until it reaches Seb.

Mackie and Seb are sitting together in the hot tub. No one else brought swimwear, and everyone has strategically declined snagging a pair of Chris’s. When asked, Scarlett wrinkled her nose and said, “I’m good on the man soup.”

Chris wishes he could have Scarlett’s resolve. He tries not to make it obvious he’s looking at Seb, but he’s totally looking at Seb.

“We’re getting low,” Grillo announces, setting two beers on the table before he drops back into the chair across from Chris. “I got eyes on that bottle of rum I saw behind your bar.”

Laughing, Chris distractedly shakes his head, and says, “Whatever you want, man.”

He deals out a new round and sneaks a glance over at Seb whenever Grillo is looking down at his cards. Half of Seb’s face is blocked by the back of Mackie’s head, but Chris has no problem filling in the blanks.

Seb is basically Chris’s wet dream come to life, which, you know. Helps with the visualization of things. Namely bending Seb over the edge of the hot tub and fucking the life out of him.

Blinking, Chris looks down at his cards, none of which make sense suddenly, and rests a hand over his dick under the table.

He’s not going to get hard in the middle of a blackjack game with Frank fucking Grillo of all fucking people on earth.

~

Or, you know. He is.

Chris holds it together for another half an hour, until Seb pulls himself out of the water to snag he and Mackie another round of drinks. And then there he is, six feet of hot wet skin and slicked back hair, chest flushed and face sweaty from the temperature of the water.

 _Looking like he just got fucked,_ Chris’s brain supplies, helpfully.

When Seb looks over at him, a secret little smile on his face, Chris feels the blood reroute from his brain to his cock.

He loses that round to Grillo.

~

The remaining majority of Chris’s weekend is uneventful.

He goes out and buys groceries on Saturday. He picks up a new bottle of booze to replace the one Grillo ended up finishing off. On Sunday, he watches seven hours of the NFL Network, and does not remove his ass from the couch.

That night, after showering, shaving, and talking to his mother for forty minutes, he goes to bed.

It works out until just before 3AM, which is when he wakes up rock fucking hard and sweaty.

“Jesus,” He exhales into his pillow, fingers curling into the rumpled sheets beneath it.

The part of his brain that connects reasonable thought to his dick doesn’t clink up for a minute, leaving him to grind down into the mattress one more time, thoughts of Seb, flushed and smiling underneath him, fresh on his mind.

For one cloudy, sex delirious moment, Chris feels better than he has all year.

~

Three hours later, Chris rolls into training glassy-eyed and half asleep.

Seb’s already sitting on the mat, sleepy faced and laughing with Cory as he stretches, one leg out, holding onto his ankle with one hand.

He looks flexible, like you could bend him in half. _But we already knew that,_ Chris’s brain helpfully supplies.

“Hey man,” Dale, Chris’s primary stunt trainer, says. He’s got a protein shake in one hand.

When Seb overhears Dale’s greeting, he looks up. The grin is already firmly on his face as he turns his attention to Chris.

“Captain America is here!” He calls, teasing.

Chris makes a face at Seb, but can’t help laughing a little bit as Dale comes over to give him a bro-handshake and hug.

“We got a busy one today, man,” Dale promises, patting Chris on the back twice before they pull away. From over Dale’s shoulder, Chris watches as Seb stretches both legs out, toes up. “Four weeks to learn this shit is gonna be tight, but we can pull it off.”

With a confident nod, Chris unzips his hoodie and sits down on the bench that runs along the length of the mat. He tries to ignore the way Seb is sitting on the floor: stretched back, weight on his palms, legs spread wide.

Chris desperately tries not to look for the shape of Seb’s dick in his sweatpants.

“What are we starting with?” He asks instead, tugging off his hat and scratching at the back of his head.

Dale twirls one hand around like he’s holding a knife, and dramatically announces, “The bridge!”

“Great,” Chris manages, dick already interested.

~

Dale and Cory run through the fight choreography first.

On the bench, Chris and Seb sit knee to knee like school children watching a science presentation. Reading the script and seeing the storyboards were intense, but to see this particular fight in action is something else entirely.

It’s an intimate fight. There’s no other way to describe it, and by the time the first run through is complete, both Dale and Cory are sweaty, red-faced, and out of breath.

“Obviously we can’t get through the whole thing on one day,” Cory says, reaching for a water bottle. “But we’re going to see how far we can get. We’ll start at the top.”

Beside Chris, Seb cracks himself up, and then says, “I’m more of a bottom kind of guy.”

“We’ll get there,” Dale laughs, “Your day will come man,”

Aaaaand there’s that visual again. Chris is completely blindsided with the memory of Seb on top of him, sweaty and flushed all over, full of dick and happy about it.

“That cool with you, Chris?” Cory asks.

Chris realizes that he’s completely missed an important part of the conversation.

“Yeah,” He nods anyways, eyebrows tightening. He digs his fingers into one thigh and adds, “I’m up for anything.”

~

They split into two teams - Seb and Cory, and Chris and Dale - to do a first run of the choreography.

In the grand scheme of things, this is going to be one of the easier ones to get through: Steve blocks The Winter Soldier with the shield, The Winter Soldier does a dead drop knick, and then there’s hand-to-hand combat over the shield. It’s prop heavy, doesn’t have a lot of body to body contact, and is otherwise all that Chris could hope for after spending the night dreaming about Seb’s ass.

He and Dale go through the blocking step by step.

“Tuck yourself behind the shield,” Dale explains, tapping Chris’s calf. “Make sure your ankle is covered.”

Chris adjusts one knee, and shifts his positioning.

“Seb’s hand will be right here,” Dale continues to explain, gripping the edge of the shield in demonstration. “Brace his weight with your forearm, and bring your right hand into his left shoulder. Yeah! That’s great.”

They finish with the jump flip Chris spent hours preparing for last week. It’s different than any of the flip tricks he’s done so far, in that everything comes down to the shield - and Seb.

Two things that Chris has become very well acquainted with over the last couple years.

“When you flip, he’s going to hold your weight. You have to trust him, and stay light on your toes,” Dale explains, bracing himself against the floor as Chris walks through his blocking, shield between them and his weight up on the balls of his feet.

Chris gets the hang of it quickly, and, after lunch, finds himself with Seb on the mat.

“We’ll walk through the blocking one last time, and then you guys can go ham,” Cory says.

The blocking is the easy part. It’s easy to distance yourself from the physicality of being this close to someone in hand to hand combat when someone else is literally walking you through the steps. Chris concentrates on what Cory is saying so he doesn’t think about how close he and Seb are: hand, hand, shield, brace, grab, kick, drop, crouch, roll, shoot, kick, shoot, shoot, punch, grab. Flip.

By the time they’ve finished the run through, Chris is almost relaxed.

“Alright guys, get in there,” Dale announces. “Let’s run it back to back twice.”

Fighting is intimate as hell, especially when you know how it ends. Chris feels himself getting hot under the collar immediately, because even with the shield between them, he hardly feels like he can hide from the weight of Seb’s gaze.

He moves first and Seb follows instantly. It’s kind of weird. Chris has two simultaneous trains of thought racing through his head: one is hopelessly trying to remember the stunt steps in the correct order, and the other is overly, almost explicitly, aware of how close he and Seb are.

“Get in there!” Cory shouts from the sidelines. “This isn’t a sixth grade dance!”

That makes Seb laugh, and he’s so close, Chris feels the burst of warm breath against the side of his face as he twists to avoid a punch. It’s funny, Chris’s body knows exactly what it’s doing as he moves; it feels so good to be in such close physical proximity to Seb. After weeks of holding back, this is his atoms _almost_ getting what they want.

The last sequence of this fight includes both of them grabbing the shield at the same time, Steve’s hands over The Winter Soldier’s.

Chris’s chest fizzles with excitement when their hands touch, and then he’s bouncing up, levering his own weight against Seb’s as Seb rotates the shield, and takes Chris through a mid-air 180.

They’re both panting and flushed when Chris bounces back down on his toes.

Seb looks at him, then - really fucking looks at him, differently than all the other times up until now - and Chris swears he feels his heart lurch.

“Yeah, that was a good first run,” Dale says, shaking Chris from his stupor. “Let’s do it one more time.”

~

That night, in bumper to bumper traffic, Chris rests his head against the steering wheel.

He can be a professional.

He can keep his feelings in check.

He can keep his dick in his pants.

He can keep his eyes off of Sebastian’s face.

Not forever. He can’t do it forever.

But he can white knuckle it to the end of training.

He can be a professional.

~

That week clicks along at an impressive pace, and they it finish up by blocking the remainder of the bridge fight.

“Let’s do that flip again,” Dale instructs, walking back across the mat. “Me and you, man.”

Chris wipes the sweat off his face and takes a step back from Seb. They’ve been working on the same fucking blocking for almost two fucking hours, and it’s not that complicated: Steve and The Winter Soldier fight against the side of a truck, Steve flips The Winter Soldier, The Winter Soldier strangles Steve, knives him, and ends up in another flip.

It’s not rocket science. Chris has done more difficult things in his action movie career.

They just can’t get this one right.

Dale walks him through it again. Chris grabs Dale’s arm, flips him around so they’re belly to back, and then throws their combined weight backwards, until Dale goes over Chris’s shoulder and lands safely on the crash mat behind them.

“See - you did that fine,” Dale pants, as he crawls back to his feet. “Now do it with Sebby.”

Seb raises his eyebrows, and smiles.

“Yeah,” Chris breathes, nodding. He runs a hand through his hair.

He and Seb reset. Chris gets through the first half of blocking fine, right up until his arms are locked around Seb’s waist from behind, and he feels Seb lifting his weight up onto his toes in preparation for the lift and flip.

“Fuck, sorry,” Chris pants, letting go. Seb easily drops back onto his toes, and turns around to pat Chris on the back kindly.

Dale exclaims, “What the hell, man?! You did it textbook perfect a minute ago!”

Laughing at himself, Chris shakes his head, and then settles for groaning into his hands.

“I need a minute,” He says, rubbing his face. “Just give me a few.”

~

Chris has been outside, trying to cool off, for ten minutes when Seb pokes his head out the door.

“Hey,” Seb greets softly, sweaty necked and still red in the cheeks. “You alright?”

Sighing, Chris nods, and watches as Seb uses both hands to make sure the door shuts quietly behind him. If his trainer wasn’t on the other side of this wall, he would totally bum a smoke from someone right now.

“I’m fine,” Chris says, a little smile on his face as he watches Seb make his way over. “What’s up?”

Seb tugs his hat off to smooth back his hair underneath it, and shrugs, “Cory said to take five.”

“Mmm,” Chris murmurs, watching as Seb comes to lean against the wall he’s standing beside. Chris blinks slowly, looks at the slope of Seb’s nose and the spot where it connects to the soft curve of his cheek. Chris would like to put his mouth there. He looks back at Seb’s eyes, and admits, “I needed to clear my head.”

With a soft laugh, Seb arches one eyebrow, and asks, “Oh yeah? Anything interesting in there?”

“Depends on what you consider interesting,” Chris smiles, then bites at his bottom lip nervously and adds, “You, in particular, might be interested.”

Chris feels his stomach flip as Seb looks into his face, meeting his gaze, and says, “You know I am.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Jesus, Seb, I do,” Chris murmurs, brow tightening. He takes a step closer.

There’s a pause, and the tension radiating between them grows as heavy as a wool blanket. Chris watches as Seb’s expression changes with every inch he moves closer. He’s seen Seb’s face look a lot of ways, but never quite like this.

If Seb wasn’t close enough to reach out and touch, Chris might have thought he dreamt it.

Seb goes to say something else, and then the exit doors crack open.

“Hey, don’t mean to interrupt,” Cory says, sounding apologetic as half his body appears around the length of the door. “But we gotta get moving.”

Nodding, Chris clears his throat, and risks a glance at Seb’s face one last time.

Jesus. Chris feels that expression down to his toes. Seb’s still watching him openly, eyes bright, clear. Curious.

When Chris pushes himself away from the wall, he doesn’t miss the way Seb’s gaze falls from face to belly.

~

That night, Chris gets home feeling different.

He eats dinner over the kitchen sink, stares out at the rolling Hollywood Hills, and heads upstairs to bed.

Laying there, with his phone in one hand, Chris debates texting Mackie to ask for Seb’s new number.

In the end, he falls asleep before he can work up the nerve.

~

There are five days of combat training left.

Chris presses his head back into the crash pad, and tries to remind himself of where they are.

But that’s really fucking hard, you know, with Seb on top of him like this.

“I recommend keeping your weight off your knees,” Cory is telling Seb, crouched beside them on the floor as he adjusts their positioning and adds, “Otherwise you’re gonna have a bad time.”

Seb grins down at Chris - all two hundred watts of it - and raises his eyebrows.

As Cory takes a step back, Seb shifts his weight, repositioning himself so he’s balanced on his butt instead of his knees.

Chris closes his eyes, curls his fingers into the mat on either side of Seb’s calves, and tries to clear his head.

“When you get that first punch in, you’re gonna drop your weight onto your right palm,” Cory continues. When Chris opens his eyes again, Cory is pointing to his own chest. He adds, “Make sure you swing your force behind your left.”

Relaxing back against the mat, Chris tilts his head back, chin up, and looks into Seb’s face.

There’s no Bucky there. Not yet. This is just them - just Chris and Seb.

“Go for it,” Chris grins.

Seb smiles back and then moves his body up and forward, until he can brace himself with a palm over Chris’s heart.

He pretends to punch Chris in the face, and, for one long moment, Chris completely forgets how to react. He’s too caught up in the way that Seb’s hair swings forward, loose over his forehead, and the stretch of his t-shirt as it pulls tight across his shoulders.

The way his dick feels, pressed up against Chris’s pelvis.

“React, Chris!” Dale yells from the other side of the mat.

This is not fucking happening, Chris thinks to himself, as Seb laughs and pretends to punch him one last time.

For this one, he curls his fingers into the thin fabric of Chris’s t-shirt. For authenticity, Chris assumes.

~

There are four days of combat training left.

Dale and Cory are arguing about blocking again, and Seb is still on top of him.

This new life of Chris’s is nothing but hell. A long, slow, march that always ends in him trying to keep his hands to himself.

He looks up at Seb quietly, the way Seb smiles back, face full of scruff and gentle amusement. Chris exhales - sharp - through his nose, and makes a surprised noise when Seb shuffles around and squirms into a different position.

“You need to stop,” Chris manages, laughing and then groaning as he tilts his head back against the mat.

With a grin, Seb leans forward a bit, and teases, “Make me.”

Challenge fucking accepted.

Without thinking, Chris laughs and grabs Seb by the hips, a hand on either side; his workout clothes are so thin, Chris can feel the indent where Seb’s pelvis joins the sides of his torso. Fuck, Chris wants to groan, and the rest is just muscle memory - that one split second of muscle memory sends an entire flipbook of moments cascading through Chris’s head.

Grabbing Seb, just like this, to pull back down the mattress. Bracing Seb’s weight above him, just like this, to pump into him, panting, shoulders dug back into the mattress for balance. Touching Seb, just like this, and pressing kiss after kiss to his mouth, too caught up in smiling to care about colliding with hotel room furniture.

When Chris looks up into Seb’s face and sees that flush in his cheeks, he knows Seb is there, too.

They’re finally in the same spot at the same time.

“Alright, fuck it! Let’s try it both ways!” Dale shouts, heading back towards them. “Sorry, guys. I think we got it figured out now.”

Stunned, Chris looks up at Seb, and nods.

~

Later that day, Chris has a shower at the gym before heading home.

He slings his backpack over one shoulder, slicks his wet hair back with one hand, and shoves through the back exit doors.

Because Chris is now fully down the rabbit hole, he isn’t surprised to see Sebastian waiting outside.

Seb doesn’t say anything at first. He smiles, and brings the cigarette he’s smoking up to his mouth; when he takes a drag, he sucks hard enough at it to hollow out his cheekbones. Chris feels his brain misfire.

There are four steps separating them. Chris takes them all one right after another, and doesn’t stop until he’s closed the distance. He looks at Seb’s mouth, grabs him by the back of the head, and pulls him forward without another thought.

Seb makes a soft noise - surprised - and reaches up to hold onto Chris’s shoulder. Chris can smell the cigarette smoke on Seb’s breath before their lips even touch.

The kiss frazzles every nerve ending Chris has been trying to temper down these last few weeks. Just the feeling of standing so close to Seb like this, out in the wild, is enough to take Chris’s brain offline. The gentle press of Seb’s lips, the smell of him so familiar and warm, sends Chris careening overboard.

With his free hand, Chris grabs Seb’s free hand, and pushes him back against the building.

“Chris,” Seb mumbles, leaning in, dragging Chris forward by the t-shirt.

Surprised at himself, Chris pulls away from Seb’s mouth, and leans in to press their foreheads together. He closes his eyes and tries to calm the adrenaline cascading through his body.

Seb leans forward, tangles their fingers together, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Chris’s mouth.

He knows what Chris needs every time.

“I promised myself I’d get to the end of training,” Chris laughs softly, opening his eyes, looking at Seb way too close.

A slow grin creeps its way across Seb’s face. He leans forward, and licks the curve of Chris’s top lip with the tip of his tongue.

“Why’d you do a stupid thing like that?” He asks, teasing.

As Seb leans back, Chris can’t help but groan, unable to break their eye contact as Seb brings his cigarette back to his mouth.

“I’m full of bad ideas,” Chris manages, strained.

~

Chris has been home for all of an hour when his phone buzzes.

He stretches across the couch - which is the only piece of furniture in his living room, aside from the gigantic TV - and snags his iPhone from where he left it in his backpack on the floor.

With a frown, Chris looks at the number, which he doesn’t recognize right away - 212 area code. He slides the text to open it, because after a couple of close calls over the years, he’s finally figured out how to remove his messages from automatically displaying on the lock screen.

He goes from buzzed - still kind of dick stoned from Seb’s kiss - to instantly wasted, and hard as a rock.

On his phone is a picture of the body he’d know anywhere.

It’s Seb, from the nipples down. He’s wearing the underwear Chris had to watch him wiggle around in all day, getting that reward of one inch of waistband every time Seb raised his arms over his head. Chris groans and leans forward, shoulders hunching forward.

More importantly, underneath the fabric of the underwear, Seb is rock hard and thumbing the length of his dick.

Chris can’t see his face, but if he could, the asshole would be biting his bottom lip.

 _Four days seems like a long time_ , is all it says underneath the photo.

The adrenaline Chris feels flood through his body is unreal. His entire body reacts: aside from the instant boner, he’s up on his feet as soon as the picture parses through his brain.

Like he’s - what? Going to drive across town to get it in, all because of one photo?

 _PRETTY MUCH, MY FRIEND_ , his dick says, brain officially offline.

“Jesus,” He groans, slumping back against the arm of the couch. He rests one hand over the obnoxious line of his hard-on, and thumbs at the photo with his other hand, zooming in on Seb’s fingers, the curve of his thumb and the way it lines up perfectly with the length of his dick.

 _NOT FAIR_ , he texts back, hand going into his pants to jerk off.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank Sebastian Satan himself, it's finally done.

There are three days of combat training left.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s with you today?” Scarlett asks, tugging her hair up into a ponytail.

Chris accidentally breaks out into a smile; he has to make a concentrated effort to temper the expression down.

“Nothing,” He replies, but his lips warble, trying to curve back up. He furrows his eyebrows, shakes his head, and reaches for his coffee. “Why do you ask?”

He thinks about Seb, boned up and taking pictures, and feels a hot flush of desire flood his system.

The things. He’s going. To do.

“No reason,” Scarlett frowns, studying his face silently. “But I don’t believe you.”

Laughing, Chris shrugs at her, and takes a sip of his coffee.

~

There are two days of combat training left.

“Aim for the knees, or behind the thighs,” Cory says, halfway through his demonstration with Dale.

They’re blocking one of the pinnacle moments of the entire movie: The Winter Soldier tackles Cap and beats the shit out of him, before the ship explodes and Cap falls plunges into the river.

Chris would not turn down the opportunity to dunk himself into some cold water right now.

Once Cory and Dale have walked through the blocking, Chris and Seb get set up: Chris on one side of the mat, and Seb on the other. Dale gives them a couple last safety notes - _Chris, take your weight with your forearms, not your back; Seb, keep your spine safe and drive forward with your shoulder_ \- before stepping back.

From across the mat, Seb grins. That’s when Chris should know he’s done for, but it still comes as a surprise when Seb knocks him backward, shoulder to gut, and throws him down to the mat.

The only thing Chris remembers to do is land with his arms first.

“Uh,” Cory calls from the other side of the mat, “You can probably just grab his waist.”

Panting from the sudden rush of adrenaline, Chris laughs, and then tries to sit up. It happened so fast he didn’t even realize Seb took him down with two hands on his ass until Cory discreetly pointed it out.

“Got it, sorry,” Seb calls. He grins down at Chris and adds, voice low, “Just felt natural, I guess.”

Oh sweet jesus, Chris isn’t going to make it out of this alive. He feels himself flush from cheek to adam’s apple as he laughs again, breathless this time. Seb gets back to his feet for a reset, and extends one hand, pulling Chris up easily. Effortlessly.

Chris hits a brick wall of sense memory as he bounces back to his feet. He remembers Seb, grabbing at his ass and talking shit low in his ear; Seb, pushing him around late at night, fucking him into the bed sheets until Chris was delirious with need; Seb, slapping the curve of his ass and grinning against the trembling slope of his shoulder blade.

He doesn’t need to remember the way it felt to have Seb inside him, because it’s something he’ll never forget.

“Let’s do it again,” Dale drawls, winding his arm around in a ‘reset it!’ motion.

Dangerously close to half hard, Chris takes a step away from Seb, and brings his hand up, twisting his wrist around, remembering the way it felt when Seb grabbed him around the forearm.

~

Today is the last day of combat training, and Chris is reasonably confident he’s going to pop a blood vessel.

He bumps into Mackie in the cafeteria.

“You should cut out the caffeine, man,” Mackie tisks, gesturing to the death grip Chris has got around his coffee.

Honestly, it’s a better alternative than his dick.

“Hey, I’m excited!” Chris exclaims, in that grey area somewhere between the truth and a lie. “Last day of training! Get jazzed!”

That makes Mackie laugh. He shoves Chris away and says, “Never say any of those things again.”

~

The fucked up part is, on a scale of Adult Male Controlling Himself to Raging Teenage Boner, this is not the worst thing Chris has had to deal with this month.

He tightens his arm across Seb’s throat, and drops their combined weight back against the mat.

“Chris!! Hand to wrist!” Dale yells, not for the first time today, from a few feet away. “C’mon!”

On the ground, Chris can feel the flex of Seb’s throat as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing against Chris’s forearm, and then the rumble of laughter through Seb’s back as he kicks his legs out again, flailing more than fighting.

Chris digs his heels into the ground, pushes his hips up against the small of Seb’s back, and rests his chin against the curve of Seb’s shoulder.

“Make it less…” Cory trails off, standing at their feet as he looks their form over, “...kinky looking.”

Oh, god. Chris drops his head back against the mat as Seb instantly cracks up. His entire body relaxes as he starfishes over Chris’s chest and stomach, head dropping back and thunking into his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking say kinky,” Chris complains, eyeballing Cory from behind Seb’s shoulder.

Still laughing, Seb unceremoniously rolls off of him, and lands on his hands and knees on the mat.

Chris lays there for a minute, breathing hard, both hands flopped stupidly against his ribcage.

He’s reasonably convinced this can now be entirely categorized under ‘torture.’

~

They’re all crowded around in the gym, sweaty and squirting Gatorade into their mouths.

“I want to say something. You guys all really fuckin’ kicked ass,” Dale announces, slapping Mackie on the back.

That means it’s an official wrap on training - Chris has never been more relieved. His body is hyper aware of Seb standing next to him; they’re both still a little gross, sweaty and out of breath. Seb’s got his snapback hat on backwards, hair all fucked up underneath, and he’s wearing a t-shirt that fits a little too big but still manages to pull at his chest.

Chris swallows, and raises his water bottle to his lips.

“Production’s footing the bill tonight, so let’s get our drink on. Real ones, too, none of this two vodka bullshit!” Cory continues, making Seb laugh and then raise one hand in a little cheer. Chris feels Seb’s arm bump against his as he lowers it back between their bodies.

They’re surrounded by co-workers and the department leads, but they’re at the very back of the group, and if Chris waits any longer to cop a feel, he’s reasonably confident he’s going to melt like plastic in a microwave.

He moves his arm, just a little, angling his elbow back, until he can raise one hand and touch the small of Seb’s lower back.

Chris keeps his gaze forward, and concentrates on the remainder of Dale and Cory’s motivational speech. He sees Seb react out of the corner of his eye: the sudden fumble of his features, the way his gaze slides sideways over to Chris, glancing from the corners of his eyes like he’s trying not to look.

Then Seb takes a step back - a half step back - so Chris’s palm presses fully against him. Chris breathes out short, sharp, surprised by the cool dampness of Seb’s t-shirt, and the way the fabric clings to him with sweat.

Poker faced, Chris presses his thumb into the dip of Seb’s lower back, dangerously close to the waistband of his shorts, and then - just as quickly - drops his hand back to his side.

“Let’s go! Shower, change, and get your asses to The Edison!” Dale yells, making everyone laugh and then cheer.

Chris is clapping, trying to catch up with the conversations around them, as Seb turns to Chris, cheeks flushed.

He pushes his tongue against the inside of one cheek, so fast Chris almost misses it, and winks before turning around.

~

At home, Chris has a shower, smokes an emergency cigarette out his bedroom window, and gets dressed.

~

He’s getting out of the cab when Scarlett walks up. She’s got that smirk on her face, and a twinkle in her eye.

“You look fancy,” She smiles, as Chris slams the cab door closed and steps up onto the curb.

Grinning, he replies, “If you mean not sweating like a pig and wearing sweatpants, then sure.”

“Sure,” She agrees, before angling her elbow out. “Let’s go.”

~

Chris is early - always is - and is unsurprised to see he and Scarlett are among the first there.

From his understanding, the pre-production team has booked the entire bar out for the night. Chris has never been here before, but it’s small-ish, more of a lounge than anything else, food and booze and dim lighting. There’s already a table of appetizers set out, too - wings, devilled eggs, squid… all kinds of weird shit.

“I’m gonna get a beer,” He tells Scarlett, patting her shoulder. “You want something?”

She grabs a pretzel, sticks it in her mouth, and says, “Always. Gimme an old fashioned.”

“Coming right up,” Chris grins.

He hasn’t felt this fucking jazzy (fuck you, Mackie) in years.

~

It takes Seb another half an hour to show up, but this time, Chris is ready for it.

Seb - unsurprisingly - rolls in with Mackie, and immediately makes his way towards the bar.

From across the room, Seb catches Chris’s eye and smiles. Chris’s thumb and pointer finger tighten around the neck of the beer he’s holding - god, that smile is like a direct line to his dick - as he wiggles the rest in a tiny wave. He can’t help the smile he shoots back, either.

Seb watches Chris for another long moment, happy and open, before getting pulled into a hey-buddy handshake by Dale.

Nerves on edge and beginning to spark in anticipation, Chris tips half his beer back, and tries to keep his gaze off Sebastian for more than a couple minutes.

~

Chris is in the middle of a conversation with Amy about Cap’s new stealth suit when Seb rolls up.

“Yo!” Amy greets, throwing out her fist for a quick bump.

Grinning, Seb extends one arm to pound their knuckles together, and then switches his drink from one hand to the other, so he can lean over and pat Chris on the pec.

“Long time no see,” He teases, smiling even wider when Amy laughs.

Chris, already hot under the collar, smiles back, and tilts his head to the side.

“Feels like it’s been years,” He replies.

“Well, you’ve got great timing. We were talking about skin tight costumes,” Amy says, filling Seb in and totally missing the frazzled electricity between the two of them. She arches an eyebrow, brings her cocktail up to her lips, and dishes, “Cap is getting real scandalous in 2014.”

With a smirk, Seb turns to Chris, and asks, “That right?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Chris shoots back, easily.

Amy cackles and adds, “I’ve measured the inner thighs on this bitch - spoiler alert, they’re incredible.”

That makes Seb crack up, mouth dropping open as he laughs and looks over at Chris. Chris rolls his eyes.

“Job hazards, man,” Seb says, sighing. 

They both tease Chris a little more, and Amy sticks around to shoot the shit until Carly arrives. By the time Amy peaces out and heads across the room, Chris is almost sure there are frissons of tension sparking into the air between he and Seb.

He sure fucking feels it. His dick wants to lead him, hips first, in Seb’s direction.

“So you’re gonna give me a private viewing of this new outfit, right?” Seb asks, turning his head a little bit, just enough for Chris to hear him.

Grinning, Chris shrugs one shoulder, and replies, “Guess that’s for me to know and you to find out later.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Seb asks, laughing already.

With a smirk, Chris takes a sip of his beer, and says, “That’s how it’s gonna be, yeah, I think so.”

Seb bites his lip, and leans in close.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” He murmurs, chin brushing Chris’s shoulder.

He pulls back an inch, grins, and then throws the remainder of his drink back before heading towards the bar.

Chris bites back a groan, and turns away. He needs a distraction if he’s going to see this through to the end.

~

“You know, boner aside, this is pretty cute,” Scarlett says, sweet as ever, as she sidles up next to Chris at the bar.

And Chris, damn him, automatically looks down at the front of his pants - just to check.

“Every day I know you, I regret it,” He laughs, easily, as the bartender sets another beer down on the bar top and then points at Scarlett, doing the universal sign for ‘another?’

Scarlett nods and smiles, and then turns back to Chris and says, “You should do happy more often. As much as I give you shit, it looks good on you. He’s a good guy, Chris.”

“This isn’t happiness,” Chris lies, thumbing at the label on his beer bottle. “It’s relief.”

She arches an eyebrow at him and mouths, “Sure.”

~

The plan is to not get drunk, but jesus, it’s hard with Seb doing the things he does.

Chris takes another sip of his beer out of unquenched thirst more than necessity, and pointedly looks away from the long stretch of Seb’s body. Seb is talking to Mackie and a couple others, which is fine. The problem is, Mackie’s booth is full, so Seb is in the one next door with his torso stretched out, back and ass on full display.

Damn, Chris has plans for that ass.

They just have to get through another hour. One hour, and then it won’t seem weird if they leave.

Seb glances over his shoulder, and immediately spots Chris sitting at a table by himself. It takes Seb no more than five minutes to disengage from Mackie’s group, and wander over.

“I think I might go outside,” Seb greets, palm on the table as he kneels down to talk low over the thrum of the music.

Leaning back, Chris raises his eyebrows, and looks down into Seb’s face. He twists his beer bottle around on the table with his pointer finger and thumb.

“You should do that,” He replies, trying to maintain his poker face. “Want me to watch your drink?”

Seb laughs, sets his drink down beside Chris’s beer, and stands up.

“No,” He says, simply, sucking at his bottom lip as Chris immediately gets up from the table. “But you can have a cigarette.”

The lounge is dark - decor all deep reds and golds - but all Chris can see is Seb. He has to make a concentrated effort to not look too dick whipped as he walks along behind Seb, smiling whenever he catches someone’s passing eye.

As soon as they’re out of the bar area, walking through one of the darker side corridors that lead outside, Chris feels his resolve shift and strain. Put too much pressure on one point, and it will break eventually.

He reaches forward and snags Seb by the waist; Seb goes easily, taking a step backward as Chris presses them front to back, nuzzling into Seb’s neck as he does so. He knows Seb can feel he’s getting hard - there’s no way to miss it, in this position - and has to make a concentrated effort to only kiss Seb’s neck once before pulling away.

When Chris steps back, Seb makes a noise of disapproval, and reaches one hand up to try and put Chris’s head back.

“If I start touching you, I don’t think I can stop,” Chris admits, grabbing at Seb’s ass.

The corridor leads them out into a side parking lot, which is, other than a couple of staff cars, completely abandoned.

Seb turns around as soon as they’re reasonably hidden, and grins.

“I don’t want to smoke,” He breathes, reaching out to grab Chris’s shirt, “I want you.”

Taking a step forward, Chris lets Seb lead him closer, and murmurs, “Jesus, Seb.”

With a grin, Seb lets his fingers trace down Chris’s abs. He doesn’t stop until they reach the waistband of Chris’s jeans, and even then, he curls them, sliding beneath his t-shirt, and tucking between denim and skin.

“Good god,” Seb groans immediately, sliding his fingers into the second knuckle. “No underwear, jesus.”

Chris never wears underwear. Seb should hardly be surprised.

Grinning, Chris takes a step back, and a step back, and a step back towards the corridor, leading Seb after him with his fingers still hooked into the waistband of his jeans.

Aside from the fact that Chris wants Seb’s dick in his mouth - not a cigarette - if they’re gone for too long, someone will notice.

~

Chris manages to make it to forty minutes before he’s dialing for a cab.

“I got shit to do tomorrow, guys, I gotta bounce,” He says, waving everyone off.

They all make noise at him, but Chris just laughs and keeps moving - if he stops, he’ll get sidelined, and the last thing he wants is to get pulled back in.

Especially when there’s something else he’d rather be pulled into tonight.

Speaking of.

“Hey, I’ll catch you guys later,” He says, walking up to the booth Mackie, Dale and Seb are camping out at. With a grin, Chris claps Mackie on the shoulder and adds, “If you can get out of bed tomorrow, text me. We’ll get Bloody Marys.”

Dale makes a gagging noise - clam and tomato juice has been a hangover point of contention for months - and then laughs when Chris makes an angry face and pretends to flip the table.

“I like Bloody Marys!” Seb exclaims, a little tipsy and affronted on Chris’s behalf as he frowns at Dale.

Laughing, Chris walks behind Seb and pats his shoulder, too.

“See you around,” He says, with a wave.

~

He’s outside, waiting at the curb, when his phone vibrates in his hand.

Chris is expecting a confirmation from the cab company. What he gets is:

_Meet me in the hotel lobby_

And then,

_I can’t wait._

_Nobody makes me feel the way you do._

Chris is surprised at himself when he blinks, and suddenly the texts look a little blurry.

A few minutes later, Chris is inside the cab, but he keeps his phone open for just a few minutes, staring at the screen. He’s too stunned to put it away.

~

Chris is lurking around the entrance to Seb’s hotel when another taxi rolls in, headlights temporarily blinding him as it turns and pulls into the drop-off area.

He leaves his hands in his pockets and tries not to stare as Seb gets out - leg first, fingers curling over the top of the doorframe. Chris watches, holding his breath as he watches Seb climb to his feet and laugh. He’s too far away to hear properly, but Seb says something to the cab driver when he’s halfway out, and then grins, flushed and happy.

As Seb swings the car door closed and the cab pulls away, Chris feels the nape of his neck start to prickle with anticipation.

There’s nothing left between them now.

It’s just sex. Chris has fucked this man more times than he can count to, and it’s been fine. Great. Incredible. Life endingly good. Fuck. Is he standing weird? It feels like he’s standing weird. He learnt how to stand with a boner when he was like twelve years old, why is he failing himself tonight?

Seb catches his eye, and, with a grin, hops up onto the curb to head in Chris’s direction.

That, right there, would definitely be why.

“I just want to say,” Seb announces through a smile, when they’re close enough to talk, “You put up a good fight.”

Chris grins, gaze flickering down Seb’s face to his lips and then back up again. He tries to keep himself steady as Seb comes to stand toe to toe with him, and has to clench his hands into fists to keep from reaching out.

“I’m a real noble guy,” He murmurs, tilting his head forward.

If anyone saw them, they could play it off. Just two friends, saying goodnight.

Chris laughs, and then shakes his head with Seb grins again and asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” He replies, unable to stop his mouth from smiling back. “Let’s just go upstairs.”

~

Chris sets his gaze forward, and watches as the elevator doors slide closed in front of them.

He keeps his hands in his pockets - it’s the only way he can disguise the way his dick is pushing up against his fly - and settles back on his heels.

As the elevator begins to move up, there’s that swoop low in Chris’s gut: the one that always accompanies the sudden loss of gravity. He tries to keep his gaze trained on the doors in front of him, but it’s a losing game, and before they’ve even passed the third floor, he smirks and glances over at Seb.

Seb’s already looking at him, hazy and flushed, eyes sparkling as he smiles. Having that expression directed Chris’s way makes him feel insane.

He’s at the end of his rope and about to reach out and do something about it, when the elevator bounces, dings, and the doors slide open. Seb grins at him over one shoulder as he steps out first, and takes an immediate left.

Chris follows behind, looking left and then right and then left again before he takes his hands out of his pockets and steps right into Seb’s space. Seb laughs and stumbles a little as one of Chris’s arms wrap around his chest from behind; Seb brings one hand up and rests it on Chris’s forearm as he ducks his head, trying to figure out where he put his room card.

This is it. This is how the house of cards Chris has been building for the last year and a half has fallen, and he’s never been happier to see so much hard work go to waste.

He tucks his nose into the crook of Seb’s neck and closes his eyes, then brings his free hand up to rest against Seb’s hip as they walk down the length of the hallway. Seb makes a soft noise when Chris presses his mouth to the spot he’s been nuzzling, and tightens his grip around Seb’s middle.

“How fucking…” Chris starts, but then trails off to kiss Seb’s neck again, “Far down this hallway are you?”

Seb laughs and then groans, tightening his grip on Chris’s forearm. He thumbs the warm skin there, and tilts his head to the side a little; Chris sneaks a kiss against the edge of his ear, and then his jaw.

“I’m at the end,” He murmurs, taking Chris’s hand off his hip, and bringing it up to his mouth. He kisses Chris’s middle knuckle, and then the flat part of his pointer finger. “Fuck, I missed these.”

For a second, Chris doesn’t even realize what Seb is talking about - he’s too busy nuzzling down Seb’s neck and grinding up against him from behind. When he realizes Seb has said something that his brain hasn’t parsed yet, he asks, “Hmm?”

“These,” Seb repeats, intertwining his fingers with Chris’s. He turns their hands until he can kiss the knob of Chris’s wrist, and then flips them back so he can suck at the pulse point underneath. It makes Chris groan for real, and grind forward. “Your hands.”

Chris breathes out, sharp and short, and manages to say, “I got it,” against the side of Seb’s head.

“What, you don’t wanna hear more?” Seb grins, nodding towards a door at the furthest end of the hall. “I got more I can say.”

Laughing a little, Chris groans again and leans up against Seb’s back as Seb positions them in front of his room. As he unlocks the door, Chris hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Seb’s pants, and pulls them away just enough to get a look at the underwear inside.

“It’s not that I don’t wanna hear it,” He breathes, rocking his dick up against Seb’s ass, “It’s just, if you say anymore of that shit, you’re going to make me come in my pants like an asshole.”

Seb grins as the door clicks open, and then turns around to pull Chris inside.

“Jesus, Seb,” Chris breathes, cutting himself off when Seb tugs him close by the jaw, pressing their mouths together.

They kissed outside the gym that one day, but it’s nothing like this. This is every train of thought Chris has had following him around for the last four weeks screeching to a sudden halt. He slides one hand up the side of Seb’s shirt and the other into his hair, holding him still and close as they kiss - properly, like they’re made to - for the first time in years.

The sound of the door clicking all the way closed suddenly registers in Chris’s brain, and he realizes that, for the first time in a long time, they’re completely alone.

He pushes Seb back against the door and breaks the kiss for a minute, already panting with adrenaline as he pulls back a bit to look at Seb’s face. Seb is staring back, glassy-eyed, mouth red and curved up into half a smile of his as he watches Chris watch him.

Fuck, Chris can’t get enough of that. He won’t ever get enough of that. Seb leans his head forward an inch, gaze pointedly on Chris’s mouth, and smiles when Chris immediately ducks back in, tongue sliding out against Seb’s. Chris raises one hand to the back of Seb’s head, and slides his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip just enough, until Seb moans softly against his mouth.

“I wanted to do this from the minute I saw you again,” Chris breathes, moving away from Seb’s mouth, over to where his jaw meets ear.

Seb makes a soft noise, then tilts his head to the side, cheek brushing Chris’s temple.

“You should’ve,” He admits, mouthing Chris’s cheekbone.

Chris plays those words over and over again as he mouths his way down Seb’s neck. He presses his nose into the spot where Seb’s jacket and t-shirt don’t quite cover his skin, and closes his eyes, one hand still in Seb’s hair, and the other on his hip.

He should’ve had Seb against him like this, breathing shallow and quick, months ago. He should’ve had Seb’s devastating grin there to blind him always. He never should’ve let Seb down like he did.

Chris went years without any of the things he should’ve had. But he’s not going to do it again.

He’s going to keep Seb in his life, no matter what it takes. He’ll be whatever guy Seb wants.

The thought sparks like a flint inside him and he reacts unthinkingly, pulling Seb away from the door to kiss him again, completely lost as he closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the feeling.

Seb kisses back like he means it, too, both hands at Chris’s waist as he directs them away from the door and towards the other side of the room. There’s no chance either of them are going to make it to the attached bedroom like this.

“Mmm, couch,” Seb murmurs, hands trailing down Chris’s sides, fingers following his waistband until they meet in the center over the bulge of his fly.

Making a noise of agreement, Chris nods and shuffles along as Seb walks them backwards.

Fuck, Chris forgot what this was like. How fucking frazzled every nerve ending becomes when placed so close to Sebastian; how he feels it in his dick every time Seb touches him. Jesus he wants to do everything but he can’t stop himself from kissing that mouth.

By the time they make it over to the couch, Chris has got his hands so far down Seb’s pants they’re practically hanging off the curve of his ass.

Seb pulls away from their kiss, and looks down at his hands, fingers steady and working the button and zipper of Chris’s pants. Chris watches, trying to catch his breath, but doesn’t quite make it before Seb groans again, clearly still happy to see Chris is commando.

Biting his bottom lip, Chris thumbs at the elastic band of Seb’s underwear and watches as Seb gets his dick out.

“Oh my god,” Seb grins, out of breath and panting as he slides his thumb up and presses it against the head of Chris’s dick, “I hope you’re ready to fuck me twice.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Seb,” Chris blurts, voice hinging on desperate, a weird noise coming out of his mouth as he staggers forward and rests his forehead on Seb’s shoulder. Ugh it’s impossible for Chris to stop himself from pumping into Seb’s hand, so he does, fingers curling into Seb’s shoulder as he grits his teeth and tries not to come.

Pleased with himself, Seb kisses Chris on the mouth again, pushes Chris’s pants down by the hips and walks him back a step, until his calves hit the front of the couch.

Chris falls back, but can’t help himself from staring up at Seb.

“I missed that fucking face,” Seb murmurs, leaning down to kiss Chris again, grinning against Chris’s mouth, hand wrapped around the side of his neck, thumb just below his ear.

Laughing, Chris nods and kisses back, hands going back to Seb’s ass as he says, “I missed some stuff too.”

“Yeah?” Seb breathes, fingers curling against the nape of Chris’s neck.

Chris nods stupidly, and tries to pull back enough to see Seb’s clothes come off, but Seb doesn’t let him, just holds his face steady as he kisses Chris again, panting and deliriously turned on.

“I gotta get the stuff,” Seb says, still kissing Chris as he takes a step back. His pants are open and halfway down his ass but they’re so tight, gravity is still working in their favor. Chris, not so much.

As Seb turns away to get the condoms and lube, Chris struggles out of his pants a bit more, pushing them down so they’re at least down his thighs. He wants to wrap a hand around his dick, too, but that’s a terrible idea and he knows it.

“Here,” Seb announces, and a second later two condoms and a thing of lube hit Chris in the chest.

His hand automatically moves to snag them from where they landed on his thigh and the couch cushion, but the rest of him is too caught up in Seb to do much about it. Chris watches Seb wrestle himself out of his shoes, pants, and underwear, and it’s only when Chris gets a glimpse of that ass that he remembers what he was supposed to be doing.

Condoms are easy - rolling one on is one of the few tasks Chris can perform well under pressure - but the lube is another story.

He’s got one hand lubed up and wrapped around his dick when Seb climbs back into his lap, wasting no time as he gets himself comfortable and grabs Chris’s face for another kiss. Chris groans into it immediately, unthinkingly, and jerks forward into his hand.

“Let me help,” Seb says, mouth bumping up against the side of Chris’s face as he reaches between them to wrap a hand around Chris’s dick.

Chris exhales sharply and lets Seb take over - for the first time in Chris’s sexual career, two hands are not better than one - and instead fumbles around for the lube again. He gets some more on his fingers and brings Seb in for another kiss with his non-lubey hand.

“You gotta stop,” Chris pants, breaking away, laughing as Seb gives him one more squeeze before shuffling up over Chris’s thighs.

Glassy-eyed, Chris tips his head back against the couch and watches Seb’s face as he pushes one finger in, swallowing tight when Seb immediately groans and slumps forward, one hand coming out to grab the couch cushion beside Chris’s head. His eyes are half closed, mouth open a little as he pants and watches Chris’s face up close.

“Feels good,” Seb manages, licking his bottom lip and then leaning forward a bit more to kiss Chris again, one hand coming up to rest along Chris’s jaw.

Chris nods and kisses back, groans when Seb grinds down against his hard on and then pushes back against his finger. Chris adds another and curls them forward, hips jerking up in response when Seb breathes out sharp against his face and makes a little noise.

He’s got elaborate plans for that ass later, but Chris reins himself in. For now, at least.

“You good?” He asks, swallowing tight as Seb reaches for his dick again - and, well, guess that’s Chris’s answer.

Seb nods anyways, licks his mouth - compulsive - and shuffles up Chris’s thighs until he can reach back and steady Chris’s dick. Chris can’t help but pump his fingers into Seb a few more times, just to hear the way Seb’s breath stutters.

“I’m good, I’m fucking good,” Seb says unnecessarily, making Chris smile as he pulls his fingers out and moves both hands back to Seb’s hips.

Chris reaches down and holds onto his own dick with one hand as Seb’s go to his shoulders.

“Seb,” Chris pants, brain officially spinning back into overdrive as feels his dick press up against Seb’s ass, and start to sink inside. He can feel Seb shaking, panting as he drops his weight, eyes beginning to close as he tilts forward, resting his forehead against the side of Chris’s face.

Once he’s halfway down, Seb pulls back up and sinks down again.

“God,” Seb pants, before cutting himself off with a breathless laugh, “I forgot how big you are.”

Chris’s pelvic muscles jerk with the effort it takes to hold himself still after a line like that. He pants as Seb leans forward, pressing their faces together, and manages to reply, “No you didn’t.”

Laughing, Seb kisses Chris happily, and startles into a moan when Chris pumps his hips up.

Jesus, this is everything Chris has been thinking about since he saw Sebastian walk in that door. It’s what he tried to replace for a year but never came close to doing. He grabs Seb by the jaw and kisses him roughly, exhaling sharp against his cheek as Seb really gets to riding.

Chris is not long for this world, but he’s gotta get his hands on more of that skin. He starts pushing Seb’s t-shirt up, but between the panting and Chris’s inability to keep his eyes all the way open, it’s one of the more difficult tasks he’s performed recently. He manages to push it up to Seb’s armpits before he gives in and just leans forward, licking at Seb’s chest, sucking a kiss right above his nipple.

“Yeah, fuck,” Seb breathes, making a soft noise when Chris starts jerking him off. “Fuck, I missed your dick.”

Seb is so wet with precome Chris can feel it dripping down his wrist. He makes a desperate noise and presses his face into Seb’s chest, just rests his forehead there for a minute as he watches Seb ride his dick. He pumps up, too, groaning as the need to thrust catches him off-guard and he has to hold onto Seb’s hips to get leverage.

God, goddamn, every moment of Chris’s life was worth living if this is the moment it all led him up to. He’s gonna come so fucking hard. Fuck. He and Seb were made for this, the way his body feels when they’re like this is --

Even though he knew it was going to happen, he still surprises himself when he comes. Seb lurches forward, grabbing at Chris’s shoulder as Chris accidentally knocks him out of rhythm, hands sliding down to hold him around the waist as he pumps up hard, hips straining with release.

It’s such a relief Chris starts laughing, and then cuts himself off with a groan when Seb pushes him back with a palm on his chest and climbs off. He strips his shirt over his head and drops it at their feet.

“Don’t, you’re going to - “ Kill me, Chris’s brain finishes, as Seb slides back down, sitting with his back to Chris’s front.

Seb’s panting, chest heaving up and down as he starts riding him again, shallow and purposeful.

“Don’t worry,” He breathes, dropping his head back against Chris’s shoulder as Chris resumes jerking him off, this time leaving his hand in a fist so Seb can thrust up into it. “Not gonna take me, ah, long.”

Chris is pretty sure if someone placed an object in front of him right now, he’d have trouble identifying it. He’s so fucked out and overstimulated all he can do is hold on, sucking kisses along the working lines of Seb’s shoulder blades as Seb grinds himself between Chris’s fist and his dick.

When Seb comes, Chris groans, unable to stop himself as he presses his face against Seb’s back. His own hips jerk up, bouncing in response to the overstimulation of Seb tightening around his dick.

“Fuck,” Seb breathes, still slowly thrusting into Chris’s hand, watching the head of his dick slide between the curve of Chris’s thumb and fingers.

Chris wraps one arm around Seb’s stomach and watches over his shoulder as Seb slows down, reaching to wrap his own hand around Chris’s. He squeezes, and as their fingers slide down the length of Seb’s cock, one last bit of come drips out when their grip tightens around the head.

Suddenly dead weight, Seb leans back, and sighs, “Wow.”

Chris wipes the sweat off his forehead with the curve of Seb’s shoulder, and reaches down to pull himself out.

Overstimulation, population: Chris.

“My hand is shaking,” He laughs, shifting as Seb resettles himself, boneless and relaxed as he watches Chris tie the condom off. Chris nudges at the side of Seb’s head with his nose, and says, “Get your shirt.”

Grumbling a little, Seb leans forward, and stretches to get his t-shirt from where he dropped it earlier. Chris can’t help but touch a little more of that ass before Seb hands the shirt back over one shoulder, and lays back down.

Chris wipes the come up as best he can with a half functional brain, and sets the condom to the side.

“That was almost worth the wait,” Seb finally sighs.

He cracks up into a laugh when Chris jerks underneath him, and smacks his ass.

~

This is the last place in the world Chris ever thought he would find himself again; he’s never been happier to be wrong.

“I wanted to impress you with my knife skills,” Seb admits, laughing at himself as Chris brushes the hair off his forehead.

Grinning, Chris looks down at Seb’s face, and admits, “It worked. I’ve never had a weirder boner.”

“Oh, I bet you have,” Seb teases back, eyes drifting closed as Chris trails his thumb from Seb’s brow bone to forehead.

He’s not exactly wrong. Chris laughs and shrugs, “Pretty sure you could flip a pancake and it would get me hard.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me,” Seb says. He slides his leg between Chris’s, and presses his bare thigh to Chris’s dick.

Groaning, Chris laughs and drops his head to Seb’s collarbone. He manages a, “Oh god, Seb, don’t.”

Chris hears Seb laugh, and feels the rumble through his chest. And god, it’s easy, living like this. It’s easy to touch Seb and kiss the dimple of his chin and stare down into the eyes Chris would know anywhere by now. Being with Seb is everything, and damn Chris for taking so long to admit it to himself.

He’s so thankful Seb can no longer be described as the one who got away.

Seb seems to notice Chris’s shift in energy. He brushes the nape of Chris’s neck and murmurs, “I missed you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Chris asks, voice rough. He lifts his head from Seb’s chest, and tries to shake out the thoughts that stick around like cobwebs. Smiling a little, he adds, “You missed me, or my dick?”

Laughing, Seb reaches down and palms Chris’s dick, asks, “Do I have to choose one or the other?”

“Things might get awkward if you did,” Chris manages, arching forward despite himself.

He kisses Seb’s cheek and then his mouth, moans soft into the way Seb wraps his fingers around him and thumbs at the base of his dick.

Their conversation trails off as Seb kisses back, bringing both hands back up to Chris’s shoulders, resting his palms against warm, bare skin. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and then Chris trails off down Seb’s neck, until he can nuzzle into the side of his head and close his eyes.

It’s quiet. It’s quiet for a long time, until Seb admits, “You know, I was in Boston right before the holidays last year.”

Chris feels that like a punch. He opens his eyes, blinks slow against Seb’s skin, and replies, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seb breathes, like it’s a weight off his chest. “I thought about texting you but, uh. You know. I remembered how your family gets busy with holiday stuff, so I figured you probably weren’t around.”

Closing his eyes again, Chris murmurs, “I could’ve been around.”

“Well,” Seb replies, and then makes a noise and admits, “I also kind of deleted your number.”

Chris laughs immediately, and then turns further into Seb’s neck and laughs some more, until Seb smacks at him and tries to pull away.

“Sorry, sorry,” Chris manages, pushing himself up onto one elbow. He looks down at Seb’s face and can’t help but crack up laughing again. “Oh my god, are you blushing?”

Seb groans and covers his face with one hand, then tries to tilt his face away from Chris’s, but it’s too late.

“What is this expression?” Chris continues, pushing the hair back off of Seb’s forehead with one hand, and then touching his wrist. “I’ve never seen it on your face before!”

Smiling now, Seb opens his eyes to slits and says, “Shut up, I can’t - ugh, I’m getting my knives out.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Chris asks, arching his eyebrows with a wiggle.

Seb laughs at that, but groans and tries to push Chris away by the face.

“Stop, oh my god,” He says, laughing as Chris pulls his hand away and kisses his palm. “I had to ask Mackie for your number, the memory of that alone is all the punishment I can take.”

Still smiling, Chris rests their hands on the pillow above Seb’s head, and raises his eyebrows.

“Can I admit something embarrassing too?” He asks.

Seb is immediately interested. He knots his eyebrows and raises his chin, says, “Fess up.”

“Scarlett knows everything,” Chris murmurs, feeling himself go a little hot in the cheeks. “I told her after I got home from New York.”

They both know what New York trip Chris is talking about; neither of them need to specify.

“Chris,” Seb blurts, voice soft, eyes sad.

Chris can feel the flush beginning to work its way down his throat. It’s not a good memory. It’s loss, still palpable, after all these years. Even though he has Seb from sternum to ankle tonight, he still remembers what it felt like to lose him piece by excruciating piece.

“I told you it was embarrassing,” Chris says softly, looking down at the hollow of Seb’s throat. “I was really drunk. I don’t remember everything, but there were probably tears.”

Seb exhales, then brushes his fingers down the side of Chris’s neck and to his jaw.

“Still think about me when you’re in New York?” He asks softly, trying to keep his tone light.

Blinking, Chris finds it impossible to move his gaze away from the hollow of Seb’s throat. The last time he was in New York, he saw Seb in every man that passed him on the street.

It’s a compulsion Chris knows he will never be able to break, no matter how things end this time.

“You know I do,” Chris finally manages. He looks up into Seb’s face, and adds, “I think about you all the time.”

Seb stares back at him, eyes wide, clear. For a second, Chris swears he looks all the things Chris feels when he thinks about what they’re doing together. But Seb’s always been better at this than Chris has, and it only takes him one blink to replace that hopelessness with familiar warmth.

“Yeah,” Seb nods, “I missed you too.”

Mouth picking up into a little smile, Chris traces his thumb from Seb’s eyebrow to temple again, and leans down for a kiss.

“Missed a lot,” Chris agrees, lips brushing against Seb’s as he talks. “There might be a list.”

Laughing, Seb reaches one hand up to hold onto Chris’s jaw and angle him into another, proper, deep kiss. Chris’s brow knots as Seb kisses him and then pulls back with a grin.

“I’m listening,” He says seriously, making Chris laugh.

Chris pushes himself up onto one elbow, and moves his other hand down to rest against Seb’s hip. He runs his palm from hip to thigh and back again, and admits, “I had a gigantic fucking hard-on the entire time we were blocking the bridge scene.”

“I know,” Seb grins back, “You weren’t exactly tucking it into your waistband.”

Laughing, Chris groans and rolls more to the side, so he can watch himself palm at Seb’s hip and the line where his pelvis joins his leg. His skin is all red where Chris’s pants were digging into him while they were fucking on the couch.

“These hips are on that list,” Chris nods, sliding his hand around to the back of Seb’s thigh, hoisting it up a bit. “Your legs, jesus, Seb.”

Seb bites his lip and looks into Chris’s face as Chris continues sliding his palm from thigh to butt cheek. He digs his fingers into the muscle there and groans, dick immediately starting to harden against Seb’s leg.

“Just my legs, huh?” Seb laughs, breathless.

Chris kisses him again, before he can make any more jokes. It’s a real kiss this time, no more soft presses of lip but instead open mouth and tongue, a soft groan when Seb arches into it and wraps one arm around the back of Chris’s neck.

“Legs,” Chris echoes, dumb. He grinds himself against Seb’s bare thigh, and then tugs at his shoulder to get him to roll over. “Some other parts, too.”

There have been so many days over the last three months Chris has thought about all the things he’d like to do to this ass.

Seb picks up on it, grins and looks back over his shoulder as Chris palms his ass apart with both hands.

“Yeah,” He replies, raising his eyebrows, “I got an idea of what you missed.”

Grinning, Chris shrugs a little, trying to play it cool, and looks up at Seb’s face. Seb is still looking back over one shoulder, watching as Chris thumbs the spot where the curve of Seb’s ass meets the tops of his thighs.

“The list is ranked,” Chris agrees, voice rough. He trails his gaze down Seb’s body, along his spine and tailbone, to the muscles of his lower back that flex as he shifts and arches back into Chris’s hands. Chris stares at his own fingers, curled into tanned skin, and helplessly adds, “Your ass is definitely at the fucking top, jesus. _Jesus_.”

And damn, what an understatement that is. Chris is in no place to articulate the sheer number of times he has thought about getting himself into this position.

“You waiting for an invitation?” Seb asks, sounding a little breathless as Chris leans down to suck a kiss to his tailbone. Chris groans immediately - both at the sensation and from Seb’s words - and closes his eyes, nosing along the muscular dips that lead down to Seb’s ass.

Eating Seb out is a wet fucking dream; Chris can’t stop himself from making noises as he starts to lick, eyes closed and mouth open. Seb groans and pushes back against Chris’s mouth, knees shifting apart and toes curling against the mattress as Chris brings one hand up to pull him open.

“Fuck yeah,” Chris mutters to himself, spreading Seb with his fingers, nosing his way back in to suck and lick and fuck Seb with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long for Seb to reach back with one hand. He props himself up so he can watch Chris around the curve of his own shoulder, and twists his fingers into Chris’s hair. Chris groans and looks up, over the slope of Seb’s lower back and the strain of his shoulder blade. Seb’s eyebrows are knotted together and he looks hazy-eyed, tongue licking his lips over and over as he watches Chris’s face.

Chris groans when Seb presses him in by the back of the head, and closes his eyes. You’re not doing it right until your face is covered in spit, a sentiment Chris is a true believer in. He pushes in again, tongue out and flat against Seb’s ass, and then shakes his head from side to side like a dog, sucking at Seb’s skin as he does so.

The response is instantaneous: Seb groans and loosens his grip on Chris’s head, tries to crawl up the bed an inch but doesn’t get far before Chris is pulling him back in by the thighs.

“You said,” Chris pants, pulling back to look at his work, “Something about an invitation.”

Seb shakes his head, legs sliding restlessly against the sheets, and laughs breathlessly. He twists his fingers into the blanket, buries his face in the pillow, and groans as Chris gets back to it.

Having that ass right in his face is the greatest accomplishment in the world. Chris feels like he could rob a bank and get away with it; the rush of adrenaline and pleasure he gets from hearing Seb make those noises and move like that is unreal.

“Alright,” He murmurs, sliding his hands from Seb’s thighs to the backs of his knees and then back up again. “Flip over.”

Seb’s back is heaving as he breathes heavily, the curve of his ass red from Chris grabbing at it. He pushes his forehead against the pillow, trying to get himself together, and makes a surprised noise as Chris starts manhandling him over instead of waiting.

The second Seb’s on his back, he reaches for Chris. Snags him around the neck with one hand, and drags him close so they can kiss.

Chris moans into it, opening his mouth as Seb kisses him roughly, still panting and worked up from watching Chris rim him. They’re both hard as hell, too, dicks bumping as Chris straddles Seb’s thighs and tries to push himself back up into a sitting position. Seb won’t let go though, just shakes his head and laughs and bites at Chris’s bottom lip every time Chris tries to move.

“I’m not done,” Chris murmurs, smiling when Seb licks his top lip and then thumbs at the corner of his mouth, gaze following the curve of Chris’s smile.

Tongue sliding over his bottom lip, Seb looks up into Chris’s face and teases, “Neither am I.”

“I got a list,” Chris murmurs back, kissing down the side of Seb’s neck, “I got jobs to do.”

Seb laughs and tips his head to the side so Chris can get to his neck, then brings his other hand up to comb his fingers through Chris’s hair and thumb the nape of his neck. Chris makes his way down, moving from neck to throat to nipple to abdomen, until he’s tonguing at the spot above Seb’s belly button.

His original plan was to maybe blow Seb a little, but then he glances up and sees Seb’s face, eyes closed, head tilted back against the pillow. Mouth wet and open.

The list exists to be adjusted. He crawls back up Seb’s torso, and reaches down for his dick.

“You gotta,” Chris manages, as the head of his dick smacks Seb’s collarbone, leaving a wet spot behind. Seb opens his eyes and looks up at Chris’s face, then tilts his head forward, mouth already open as he ducks his chin and tries to reach for Chris’s dick. Chris exhales, bumps his cock up against the curve of Seb’s bottom lip, and says, “Yeah.”

He watches as Seb lets his tongue relax, stuck out and resting on his bottom lip, eyes trained on Chris’s face as Chris traces his dick around the outlines of Seb’s mouth.

“C’mon,” Seb says, voice rough, “I want it.”

Knotting his eyebrows, Chris nods and stares at his dick as he pushes it against Seb’s mouth, biting back the urge to groan as Seb puckers his lips in a kiss before sticking his tongue out again.

“God Seb,” Chris manages, adjusting his position, climbing further until his knees bump up against Seb’s armpits, “Jesus, look at you.”

Seb raises his eyebrows and makes eye contact as Chris presses his hips forward another few inches, watching with a soft, stilted groan as his cock slides into Seb’s mouth. It’s a weird angle, especially with Chris resting his weight on Seb’s chest, but Seb seems to love it, slides both palms over Chris’s stomach and then up to his chest.

“More,” Seb manages to demand around Chris’s dick, voice muffled and pleased.

Rolling forward onto his knees, Chris’s stomach muscles jerk and clench when Seb starts thumbing at his nipples, first one and then both at the same time. Seb can’t smile with a cock in his mouth but damned if Chris can’t see how pleased he is with himself all the same.

With this new position, Chris can fuck Seb’s mouth properly, pump his hips into it as Seb slides his hands back and forth over Chris’s torso and then around to his ass. Chris really gets to moaning when Seb digs his fingers into the muscles of Chris’s ass and pulls him forward. Seb’s eyes close as he raises his head from the pillow and swallows, throat working around Chris’s dick.

“Fuck, god, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Chris chants, watching helplessly as Seb swallows again and again, pulling Chris back just enough to get a breath in through his nose before he pulls Chris back in by the ass.

He plants one hand against the mattress by Seb’s head and pumps his hips, keeping a steady rhythm until Seb groans and drops his hands from Chris’s ass, and brings them back around to palm at Chris’s pelvis and lower belly.

“I gotta fuck you,” Chris manages, head dizzy and slow as he starts to pull back. Halfway out of Seb’s mouth he can’t help but push in one more time and repeat, “God you’re beautiful.”

Seb’s throat is red and his mouth is wet as Chris pulls himself out and then leans down to kiss again, one hand in Seb’s hair as Seb arches up into him and kisses back. Seb pushes himself up onto one elbow and reaches for his own dick with his free hand, starts jerking slowly until Chris takes over.

They kiss as Seb fumbles around with one hand, reaching for the condom and lube Chris haphazardly threw onto the mattress during their journey from couch to bedroom.

Chris mouths his way down Seb’s jaw as Seb bites the condom packet open and butts his head against Chris’s shoulder so he can look down and roll it onto Chris’s dick. Chris bites his bottom lip to keep from fucking Seb’s hand, and waits until Seb is done before shifting back onto his knees.

“Up,” He murmurs, kissing Seb on the shoulder blade.

Seb sits up and then turns around. He tugs Seb up onto his hands and knees, and then leans over Seb’s back to kiss his neck and shoulder and reach for the lube. Seb’s restless, jerks himself off a little as Chris gets some lube in his hand and pumps his dick into his fist a couple times.

“C’mon,” Seb murmurs, pressing his ass back against Chris’s thighs. “Chris.”

Behind him, Chris squeezes his fingers around his cock, and stares down at the curve of Seb’s ass. It’s a little beard burnt, but god, goddamn, nothing beats it. Chris arches forward with his hips, and lets the head of his dick bump up against Seb’s tailbone as he grinds into the dip there.

He can hear how loud Seb is breathing, little noises and groans as he feels Chris grind up against him but never quite get inside. Chris wraps a hand around the base of his dick and traces it along the line of Seb’s ass, from his tailbone down to his balls and then back up again.

“I’m getting,” Seb pants, fingers twisting into the sheets as he arches back, “Impatient.”

Chris nods, murmurs, “Yeah, yeah,” and holds his dick against Seb’s ass, groaning under his breath as he starts pushing in.

That makes Seb relax immediately. All of the tension he was holding in his shoulders slides away, and he hangs his head low, hair brushing the sheets as he rolls his hips and pushes back against Chris fucking into him.

“You feel good,” Chris murmurs, rubbing Seb’s lower back as he watches his dick slide in. “God, Seb, you’re incredible.”

Panting now, Seb tries to look back over his shoulder, but ends up tipping forward and groaning as Chris bottoms out.

Fuck, Chris can’t think right. He blinks, steadies Seb by the hips, pulls out, and promptly fucks back in.

Seb groans again, then laughs breathlessly, rolls his hips and leans into Chris’s returning thrust. Oh yeah, fuck yeah, that rhythm is good, Chris can get into that and keep it. He holds onto Seb’s hips with both hands as they get going, slow and then deep and then fast.

From this position, Chris can see how muscular Seb’s back is. He was always a lean guy, but with training for the movie, he’s completely filled out, enough tanned skin and strong muscle to make Chris’s head spin. He brings one hand from Seb’s hip to rest against the small of his back instead, and slides his palm up and down Seb’s flank as he fucks in and out, eyes drifting closed.

He feels Seb shift positions, and opens his eyes to see Seb’s head hung low against the mattress, sweaty hair bouncing in jerky waves every time Chris’s pelvis connects to his ass. Chris bites his lip and watches as Seb turns his head to the side a little, just enough for Chris to see his eyes are closed and his mouth is open.

Chris leans forward, slows down so he’s fucking Seb good and deep, and rests one hand against the mattress at Seb’s hip. Seb groans softly and arches his shoulders up into it when Chris begins to kiss his back, mouth open and wet as he sucks his way along Seb’s shoulder blade and to the top of his spine.

“Chris,” He manages, voice rough and fucked out.

Pulling back, Chris shifts back up onto his knees, takes the opportunity to get a couple real good thrusts in, and then reaches for Seb’s waist. He pulls Seb backwards until his weight is resting on Chris’s thighs, mouth close enough to kiss proper.

“Seb,” He replies, wrapping one arm around Seb’s chest, and leaving the other on Seb’s hip.

Seb can’t keep his eyes all the way open. His eyelashes hide the slit of hazy pupil Chris can see, cheeks flushed and mouth open as he leans his head back against Chris’s shoulder. Chris tilts his head forward, presses a kiss to Seb’s bottom lip and then another and another, until they’re breathing sharp and hard against one another’s open mouths.

With Chris’s arm folded over Seb’s chest, Seb relaxes, lets his upper half go boneless until his head is hanging, chin rested against Chris’s forearm. Chris takes the opportunity to nuzzle at the nape of Seb’s neck, along his sweaty hairline and against the spot behind his ear.

He can feel Seb beginning to tense around him, muscles starting to tighten as Chris finds the right angle and gets to banging.

When he lets go of Seb, Seb practically falls forward, catching himself with his forearm against the mattress as he squirms and presses his ass back against Chris, breath short and sharp and desperate.

Seb turns his head and tries to look at Chris again, but it doesn’t work, Chris bucks his hips forward and jolts Seb against the mattress. Seb groans and lets his head flop forward again, hair stuck up from the back of his head where Chris was nuzzling and kissing.

Chris feels it when Seb starts to come; his insides twitch and tighten and Chris almost blacks out at the way it feels to fuck into that added pressure. Seb’s jerking himself off slowly, Chris can see the muscles in his forearm flexing, hear the soft groan in the back of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck,” Chris babbles, stuck in a loop as he buries himself and holds still for a second, fucking loving the way Seb feels around him.

Seb’s panting hard, and jesus, Chris has got to come now. He’s just gotta. He holds onto Seb and pulls out slowly, has to resist the urge to push back in when he sees the way Seb moves to accommodate him, skin flushed and red. He tugs the condom off and gets a hand around himself, has his eyes closed and is deliciously close to coming all over Seb’s back and ass when he feels the mattress shift.

“Gimme that,” Seb murmurs, sounding dick stoned and fucked out. He’s on his knees, knocks Chris’s hand away, and presses against Chris’s shoulder until Chris settles back, legs spread and propped up on his elbows.

All Chris can focus on is Seb. He bites his lip and watches as Seb settles between his legs, grin sated and happy as he wraps a hand around the base of Chris’s dick. Chris groans and brings his free hand up to rest over his upper thigh, thumb bumping against the curve of Seb’s hand.

Seb watches himself jerk Chris off a few times, hand sliding from base to head until Chris makes another soft moan and pushes his hips up into Seb’s hand. He’s so fucking close he can feel it impending, that warm flush that starts in his abdomen, completion hanging by a string just a few inches out of reach.

He palms the base of his own dick, muscles jerking as Seb wraps his mouth around him and looks up with a wink. Chris laughs and then groans, lets his head drop back as Seb starts rubbing over his stomach, fingers scratching, palm smoothing.

It only takes a minute of Seb sucking and jerking for Chris to finish. He comes with a tired moan, eyes half open as he watches Seb swallow his dick and then pull back to squeeze around the base, letting Chris hump up into his fist twice more.

Chris feels hazy and stupid as he slumps back against the mattress, breathing hard as he stares at the ceiling. He can’t string a simple sentence together quite yet, just feels Seb drop his forehead against Chris’s thigh, panting and then laughing against the soft skin there.

“Come up,” Chris finally manages, wiggling his fingers into Seb’s shoulder.

It takes a minute for Seb to get himself together, but he crawls his way up Chris’s body and then drops on top, making Chris grunt. Chris gets a kiss to the top of Seb’s sweaty head before he slumps back against the bed again, swallowing tight as he stares up at the ceiling.

Seb’s half on top of him, one leg dug between both of Chris’s, toes pressed against Chris’s ankle.

“Good thing we get three days off,” Chris grins, bringing one hand up to Seb’s back, letting his fingers trail back down his spine, “Cause I’m fucking wrecked.”

Laughing into Chris’s neck, Seb agrees, still a little out of breath, with a simple, “Yeah.”

~

Chris passes out where he is.

When he wakes up again, it’s twilight-y through the curtains, Seb is asleep on top of him, and he’s still got his hand curled into the back of Seb’s hair.

He tilts his head to the side, sees that the clock says 6:05 AM, and yawns.

“What,” Seb murmurs, still half asleep as he shifts. Chris feels Seb’s eyelashes brushing his bare skin.

Stretching his body out, Chris groans, and starts unsticking himself from the mattress. He’s fucking wrecked, gross with sweat and sex. Seb is definitely still covered in come; they basically passed out where they fell.

But still, Chris can’t keep the smile off his face.

“You going?” Seb asks, now slightly more awake.

Pushing himself up, Chris waits, watching as Seb shifts over and gets comfortable again, before he throws his legs off the side of the bed. He rubs at his face, tired.

“Yeah, I gotta,” He says, soft, voice quiet in the early morning light. He laughs a little, and looks over his shoulder with a grin to say, “That was crazy.”

Seb grins back, runs a hand through his hair, and then reaches across to tug Chris back by one hip.

“Crazy isn’t the word I’d use,” He says, smiling even as Chris leans back on one elbow to kiss kim slow.

It takes them a minute to stop. Eventually, Chris pulls away, reaches for the blanket, and tugs it up over Seb’s calves.

“I’ll call you later,” Chris whispers, reaching for his jeans.

Seb watches him get dressed, sleepy, blinking slow. He smiles into the last kiss Chris presses against his mouth before snagging his shoes off the floor, and heading out.

“Maybe I’ll call you,” Seb grins, teasing. The way his hair is all fanned out over the hotel pillows makes Chris want to get back into bed and stay.

Biting back a grin, Chris raises his eyebrows and murmurs, “Maybe you should.”

~

A few minutes later, alone in the elevator, Chris jams his hands into his jean pockets, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hit me up on tumblr](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com) or leave me a comment with your thoughts!


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